SPORT     N  WAR 


BY    MAJOR-GENERAL 

R.  S.  S.   BADEN-POWELL, 


With  Ninttetn  Illustrations  by  the  Author 


mew  lorfe 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

1900 


PREFACE 

J  T  seems  desirable  to  write  a  few  words 
of  preface  to  this  booh,  chiefly  with 
the  object  of  stating  what  it  is :  a  reprint 
of  sketches  which  have  appeared  in  the 
Badminton  Magazine.  Before  the  first 
number  was  published  in  August  1895, 
/  was  gratified  by  receiving  from  Major 
R.  S.  S.  Baden-Powell  the  offer  of  an 
article  about  Pig-sticking,  illustrated  as 
well  as  written  by  himself,  and  called 
u  The  Sport  of  Rajahs."  I  knew  that 


PREFACE 

he  wrote  and  drew  as  well  as  he  did  a 
great  variety  of  things,  and  gladly 
accepted  the  paper,  which  appeared  as 
the  first  article  in  the  second  number.  I 
told  him  I  should  always  be  delighted  to 
receive  anything  he  cared  to  send,  and 
from  time  to  time  other  contributions 
followed.  Then  came  a  pause,  while 
this  most  wonderful  of  all-round  men 
was  occupied  with  sterner  work.  This 
is  not  the  place  to  dilate  upon  the  feverish 
earnestness  and  anxiety  with  which  for 
many  months  the  eyes  of  the  civilised 
world  were  turned  to  Mafeking,  nor 
upon  the  almost  delirious  joy  with  which 
news  of  the  relief  was  at  last  welcomed. 
The  Commander  of  the  little  town  has 
8 


PREFACE 

made  for  himself  an  imperishable  name, 
not  only  by  the  gallantry  and  marvellous 
resource  that  marked  his  defence  of  the 
place,  but  by  the  unfailing  cheerfulness 
with  which  he  sustained  and  revived  the 
spirits  of  soldiers  and  civilians  under  his 
charge.  The  personality  of  the  General, 
all  that  he  said  and  did,  had  said  and 
done,  became  matters  of  intense  interest, 
and  naturally  induced  me  to  turn  up 
these  sketches,  only  again  to  be  delighted 
by  their  freshness,  vigour  and  charm. 
To  preserve  them  in  book  form  became 
at  once  my  keen  desire.  The  only  point 
to  be  considered  was  the  author's  views 
on  the  subject.  I  therefore  cabled  to 
Mafeking,  and  after  a  long  wait,  which 
9 


PREFACE 

made  me  fear  that  the  message  must 
have  gone  astray,  his  laconic  consent 
came  from  Rustenburg,  in  the  single 
word :  YES.  And  here  is  the  little 
book,  proving  the  General  to  be  not  less 
master  of  pen  and  pencil  than  of  the 
sword. 


ALFRED  E.  T.  WATSON 
(Editor,  BADMINTON  MAGAZINE) 


CONTENTS 


SPORT  IN  WAR 

A  RUN  WITH  THE  CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 

THE  ORDEAL  OF  THE  SPEAR  . 

THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS    . 

HADJ  ANO 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Within  the  halo  of  our  watchfires       Frontispiece 

Slowly  moving  over  the  boulders  of  the  river-bed  25 
Watching  the  river-bed  .        .        ...        .31 

He  turned  about,  growling  savagely          .        .  37 

The  Uitspan  is  the  scene  of  our  meet       .  51 

Members  of  our  motley  field    ....  59 

George  acting  as  leading  hound       ...  69 
They  stream  away  before  us    .        .        .        -77 

A  veteran  hand  at  the  game 97 

Lutchman,  the   shikaree,    standing  on  his 

elephant,  holloas  the  party  on  .        .        .  107 
Calvert  rolls  the  boar  head  over  heels  with  a 

crashing  stroke       .        .        .                 .  115 
13 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


She  looked  almost  as  if  she  were  resting  after  a 

bout  of  tennis  (from  a  photograph)  . 
The  King  of  Eastern  Sports  . 

The  hunters  hunted 

He  was  able  to  grip  the  spear 
Tommy  Atkins  pig-sticking    . 


The  captain,  who  was  leading,  pushed  in  first 


It  was  a  great  fight 
Hadj  Ano's  camp 
Hadi  A  no     , 


SPORT   IN  WAR 


SPORT  IN  WAR 


HAT  sort  of  sport  did 
you  have  out  there  ?" 
is  the  question  with 
which  men  have,  as 
a  rule,  greeted  one  on  return  from 
the  campaign  in  Rhodesia  ;  and  one 
could  truthfully  say,  "We  had  ex- 
cellent sport."  For,  in  addition  to 
the  ordinary  experiences  included 
under  that  head,  the  work  involved 
in  the  military  operations  was  suffi- 
ciently sporting  in  itself  to  fill  up  a 
good  measure  of  enjoyment. 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
In  the  first  place,  scouting  played 
a  very  prominent  part  in  the  pre- 
liminaries to  major  operations,  and 
gave  opportunities  for  the  exercise 
of  all  the  arts  and  resources  of  wood- 
craft, coupled  with  the  excitement 
incidental  to  contending  against  wild 
beasts  of  the  human  kind — men  of 
special  cunning,  pluck,  and  cruelty. 

This  scouting,  to  be  successful, 
necessitated  one's  going  with  the 
very  slenderest  escort — frequently 
with  one  man  only,  to  look  after  the 
horses — and  for  long  distances  away 
from  our  main  body,  into  the  dis- 
tricts occupied  by  the  enemy.  Thus, 
one  was  thrown  entirely  on  one's 
own  resources,  with  the  stimulating 
knowledge  that  if  you  did  not  main- 
tain a  sufficient  alertness  of  observa- 
18 


SPORT   IN   WAR 
tion  and  action,  you   stood   a  very 
good   chance  indeed,   not    only    of 
failing    to   gain    information   which 
you  were  desired  to  seek,  but  also  of 
getting  yourself  wiped  out,  as  many 
a  better  man  had  been  before,  by  the     $ 
ruthless,  bloodthirsty  foe. 

"  Spooring,"  or  tracking,  was  our 
main  source  of  guidance  and  infor- 
mation, and  night  the  cover  under 
which  we  were  able  to  make  our  way 
about  the  enemy's  country  with  im- 
punity. For  a  pastime  involving  all 
the  points  that  go  to  make  up 
"  sport "  in  the  eyes  of  the  Briton— 
viz.,  hard  work,  adventure,  general 
discomfort,  and  genuine  fun — com- 
mend me  to  scouting. 

Then  the  actual  tackling  the  enemy 
was  not,  especially  during  the  latter 
19 


SPORT   IN   WAR 

part  of  the  operations,  of  the  cut- 
and-dried  order  of  tactics.  There 
was  no  drawing  up  of  opposing 
forces  in  battle-array,  or  majestic  ad- 
vancing of  earth-shaking  squadrons 
to  the  clash  of  arms  ;  but  you  had  to 
approach  a  koppie  or  peak  of  piled- 
up  granite  boulders,  where  not  an 
enemy  was  visible,  but  which  you 
knew  was  honeycombed  with  caves 
and  crannies  all  full  of  watching 
niggers  fingering  guns  of  every  kind 
and  calibre.  You  were  expected  to 
climb  up  this  loopholed  pyramid  to 
gain  the  entrance  to  its  caves,  which 
was  somewhere  near  the  top,  as  a 
rule,  and  if  you  were  lucky  enough 
to  escape  an  elephant  bullet  from  one 
side  or  another,  or  a  charge  of  slugs 
from  a  crevice  underfoot,  you  had 

20 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
the  privilege  of  firing  a  few  shots 
down  the  drain-like  entrance  to  the 
cave,  and  of  then  lowering  yourself 
quickly  after  them  into  the  black  un- 
certainty below.  Although  I  never 
appreciated  this  form  of  sport  at  its 
proper  worth,  there  were  many  in 
our  forces  who  did.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that  there  was  a  "glorious 
uncertainty"  about  it,  such  as  could 
not  be  surpassed  in  any  other  variety 
of  amusement. 

Then,  when  the  enemy  had  been 
hard  hit  and  driven  from  their  posi- 
tions, it  became  necessary  to  hunt 
them  up  with  flying  patrols  and 
small  columns.  This  took  us  into 
wild  and  distant  corners  of  the 
country,  and,  until  their  surrender- 
was  obtained,  this  man-hunting 
21 


SPORT   IN   WAR 
afforded  us  plenty  of  excitement  and 
novel  experience. 

In  addition  to  military  operations 
such  as  these,  we  saw  something  of 
the  actual  sport  proper  of  the  country, 
since  supplies,  especially  of  meat, 
were  very  scarce  with  us.  Therefore 
the  game-laws  were  by  special  ordin- 
ance suspended,  and  we  availed  our- 
selves of  every  opportunity  to  get 
buck  or  other  food.  In  many  dis- 
tricts we  found  it  sufficiently  abun- 
dant, while  in  others  the  fatal  scourge 
of  rinderpest  had  done  its  work — 
especially  among  the  koodoo — and 
had  decimated  the  former  troops  of 
game. 

We  got,  at  various  times,  koodoo, 
sable,  and  roan  antelope,  wildebeeste, 
hartebeeste,  reit-buck,  stein-buck, 


22 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
duyker,  hares,  wild-pig,  quagga,  and 
twice  our  patrols  saw  giraffe.  Then 
of  birds  we  saw  ostriches  and  shot 
paauw,  korhan,  so-called  pheasants, 
partridges,  guinea-fowl,  duck,  and 
plover.  And  in  many  of  the  streams 
the  men  caught  fish,  which,  though  in 
London  they  might  be  considered 
somewhat  overcharged  with  bones 
and  mud,  yet  served  as  a  pleasing 
variation  to  our  daily  fare  of  tinned 
ration  beef. 

The  pleasures  of  the  pursuit  of 
game  were  all  the  more  enhanced  by 
the  knowledge  that  the  meat  was 
really  necessary  to  us,  and  especially 
by  the  fact  that  we  often  carried  out 
our  sport  at  the  risk  of  being  our- 
selves the  quarry  of  some  sneaking 
band  of  rebel  warriors. 
23 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
Moreover,  to  all  our  fun  a  season- 
ing was  added  in  the  shape  of  lions, 
whose  presence  or  propinquity  was 
very  frequently  impressed  upon  us 
at  nights  by  deep-toned  grunts  or 
ghostly  apparitions  within  the  halo 
of  our  watchfires.  In  defiance  of 
the  rules  of  war — which  forbid  the 
use  of  fires  by  night,  as  guiding  an 
enemy's  night  attack — we  had  a  ring 
of  bright  fires  burning  round  our 
bivouac  to  scare  away  the  lions. 
Frequently  our  sentries  fired  upon 
them  as  they  kept  a  waiting  watch, 
prowling  from  point  to  point  outside 
our  line  of  men.  But,  in  spite  of 
such  precautions,  on  one  occasion 
they  took  one  of  our  horses,  and  on 
another  they  carried  off  a  mule. 
By  day  we  saw  them  too.  One 
24 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
patrol,  indeed,  came  upon  a  group 
of  nine  lying  dozing  in  the  bush  ; 
and  when  the  nine  arose  and  yawned 
and  stretched  their  massive  jaws  and 
limbs,  the  patrol,  remembering  the 
old  maxim  concerning  the  rela- 
tions between  discretion  and  valour, 
changed  the  course  of  their  advance 
and  took  another  line. 

One  time,  when  I  was  patrolling 
the  bank  of  the  Shangani  River  with 
three  men,  the  massive  form  of  a 
lion  was  seen  slowly  moving  over 
the  boulders  of  the  river-bed.  The 
corporal  and  I  jumped  off  our  horses 
in  a  moment,  and  fired  a  volley  //. 
deux,  at  about  180  yards.  One  shot 
thudded  into  him,  the  other  striking 
the  ground  just  under  his  belly.  He 
sprang  with  a  light  bound  over  a  rock 
27 


SPORT  IN  WAR 

and  disappeared  from  our  view. 
Posting  one  man  on  a  high  point  on 
the  bank  to  watch  the  river-bed,  and 
leaving  the  other  in  charge  of  our 
horses,  the  corporal  and  I  made  our 
way  down  to  where  we  had  last  seen 
the  lion.  We  were  armed  with  Lee- 
Metford  carbines,  and  we  turned  on 
our  magazines  in  order  to  have  a 
good  running  fire  available  should 
our  quarry  demand  it. 

Meantime  our  main  body,  coming 
along  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river, 
had  seen  our  manoeuvre,  and  an 
officer  and  one  man  had  come  down 
into  the  river-bed  from  their  side  to 
help  us. 

Gradually  and  cautiously  we  sur- 
rounded the  spot  where  we  guessed 
the  lion  to  be — cautiously,  at  least, 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
as  far  as  three  of  us  were  concerned ; 
the  fourth,  the  man  who  had  come 
from  the  main  body,  was  moving 
in  a  far  freer  and  more  confident 
manner  than  any  of  us  could  boast  ; 
he  clambered  over  the  rocks  and 
sprang  with  agility  into  the  most 
likely  corners  for  finding  a  wounded 
lion  lying  ambushed,  and  his  sole 
weapon  was  his  revolver — for  he  was 
a  farrier.  Such  is  Tommy  Atkins  ; 
whether  it  is  the  outcome  of  sheer 
pluck,  or  of  ignorance,  or  of  both 
combined,  the  fact  remains  that  he 
will  sail  gaily  in  where  danger  lies, 
and  as  often  as  not  sail  gaily  out 
again  unharmed. 

However,  to  continue  :  at  last  we 
were  on  the  spot,  but  no  lion  was 
there — an  occasional  splash  of  blood, 
29 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
and  here  and  there,  where  sand  lay 
between  the  rocks,  the  impress  of  a 
mighty  paw,  showed  that  he  had 
moved  away  after  being  hit.  But 
soon  all  traces  ceased,  and  though 
we  searched  for  long  we  could  find 
no  further  sign  of  him. 

We  halted  on  the  river-bank  during 
the  intense  heat  of  the  day,  and  before 
resuming  our  march  in  the  evening 
we  sallied  out  once  more  to  search 
the  river-bed  and  an  islet  grown  with 
bushes,  where  we  hoped  he  might 
yet  be.  And  while  we  searched  the 
hussar,  who  had  been  assigned  to 
me  to  hold  my  horse,  and  who  was 
the  man  who,  in  the  morning,  had 
been  posted  to  watch  the  river-bed, 
asked,  "  How  many  lions  are  there 
supposed  to  be  here  ?"  I  told  him 
3° 


SPORT   IN   WAR 
"Only  the    one    we    fired    at    this 
morning." 

Whereupon  he  grimly  said,  "  Oh, 
I  saw  him  go  away  up  the  river  when 
you  went  down  into  it.  He  was  a- 
dragging  his  hindquarters  after  him." 

It  appeared  that  the  man  thought 
he  had  been  posted  to  guard  against 
surprise  by  an  enemy,  and  did  not 
realise  that  we,  being  down  among 
the  rocks,  could  not  see  the  lion 
which  was  so  visible  from  his  look- 
out place.  And  so  we  lost  that  lion. 

But  I  had  better  luck  another 
time. 

It  stands  thus  recorded  in  my 
diary :  * 

"  IQ//Z   October.  —  (To   be    marked 

*  Vide  "The  Matabele  Campaign,  1896," 
by  the  writer. 

33 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
with  a  red  mark  when  I  can  get  a 
red  pencil.)  Jackson  and  a  native 
'  boy '  accompanied  me  scouting  this 
morning ;  we  three  started  off  at 
3  A.M.  In  moving  round  the  hill 
that  overlooks  our  camp  we  saw  a 
match  struck  high  up  near  the  top 
of  the  mountain.  This  one  little 
spark  told  us  a  good  deal.  It  showed 
that  the  enemy  were  there  ;  that  they 
were  awake  and  alert  (I  say  'they/ 
because  one  nigger  would  not  dare 
to  be  up  there  by  himself  in  the  dark) ; 
and  they  were  aware  of  our  force 
being  at  Posselt's  (as  otherwise  they 
would  not  be  occupying  this  hill). 

"  However,  they  could  not  see  any- 
thing of  us,  as  it  was  then  quite  dark. 
And  we  went  farther  on  among  the 
mountains.      In   the   early  morning 
34  ' 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
light  we  crossed  the  deep  river-bed 
of  the  Umchingwe  River,  and,  in 
doing  so,  noticed  the  fresh  spoor  of 
a  lion  in  the  sand.  We  went  on  and 
had  agood  look  at  the  enemy's  strong- 
hold ;  and  on  our  way  back,  as  we 
approached  this  river-bed,  agreed  to 
go  quietly,  in  case  the  lion  should 
be  moving  about  in  it.  On  looking 
down  over  the  bank,  my  heart  jumped 
into  my  mouth  when  I  saw  a  grand 
old  brute  just  walking  in  behind  a 
bush.  Jackson  did  not  see  him,  but 
was  off  his  horse  as  quickly  as  I  was, 
and  ready  with  his  gun  :  too  ready, 
indeed,  for  the  moment  that  the  lion 
appeared,  walking  majestically  out 
from  behind  the  bush  that  had  hidden 
him,  Jackson  fired  hurriedly,  striking 
the  ground  under  his  foot,  and,  as  we 
35  B 


S]PORT   IN   WAR 
afterwards  discovered,  knocking  off 
one  of  his  claws. 

"The  lion  tossed  up  his  shaggy 
head  and  looked  at  us  in  dignified 
surprise.  Then  I  fired  and  hit  him 
with  a  leaden  bullet  from  the  Lee- 
Metford.  He  reeled,  sprang  round, 
and  staggered  a  few  paces,  when 
Jackson,  who  was  using  a  Martini- 
Henry,  let  him  have  one  in  the 
shoulder.  This  knocked  him  over 
sideways,  and  he  turned  about, 
growling  savagely. 

"  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  we 
had  got  a  lion  at  last,  but  resolved  to 
make  sure  of  it ;  so,  telling  Jackson 
not  to  fire  unless  it  was  necessary 
(for  fear  of  spoiling  the  skin  with  the 
larger  bullet  of  the  Martini),  I  went 
down  closer  to  the  beast  and  fired  a 
36 


HE  TURNED  ABOUT,  GROWLING  SAVAGELY 


SPORT  IN  WAR 
shot  at  the  back  of  his  neck  as  he 
turned  his  head  momentarily  away 
from  me.  The  bullet  went  through 
his  spine  and  came  out  through  the 
lower  jaw,  killing  him. 

"  We  were  pretty  delighted  at  our 
success,  but  our  nigger  was  mad  with 
happiness,  for  a  dead  lion — provided 
he  is  not  a  man-eater — has  many 
invaluable  gifts  for  a  Kaffir,  in  the 
shape  of  love-philtres,  charms  against 
disease  or  injury,  and  medicines  that 
produce  bravery.  It  was  quite  de- 
lightful to  shake  hands  with  the 
mighty  paws  of  the  dead  lion,  to 
pull  at  his  magnificent  tawny  mane, 
and  to  look  into  his  great,  deep, 
yellow  eyes.  Then  we  set  to  work 
to  skin  him  ;  two  of  us  skinning 
while  the  other  kept  watch  in  case 
39 


SPORT  JN  WAR 
of  the  enemy  sneaking  up  to  catch 
us  while  we  were  thus  occupied. 
We  found  that  he  was  very  fat,  and 
also  that  he  had  been  much  wounded 
by  porcupines,  portions  of  whose 
quills  had  pierced  the  skin,  and 
lodged  in  his  flesh  in  several  places. 
Our  nigger  cut  out  the  eyes,  gall- 
bladder, and  various  bits  of  the  lion's 
anatomy,  as  fetish  medicine.  I  rilled 
my  carbine-bucket  with  some  of  the 
fat,  as  I  knew  my  two  'boys,'  Diamond 
and  M'tini,  would  very  greatly  value 
it.  Then,  after  hiding  the  head  in  a 
neighbouring  bush  where  we  could 
find  it  again,  we  packed  the  skin  on 
to  one  of  the  ponies  and  returned 
to  camp  mightily  pleased  with  our- 
selves." 


A  RUN  WITH  THE  CAPE 
FOXHOUNDS 


A  RUN  WITH  THE  CAPE 
FOXHOUNDS 


HE  setting  sun  is  slowly 
withdrawing  his  broad 
warm  hand  from  off 
the  land  as  we  steam 
out  by  the  evening  train  from  the 
chill  and  darkling  shadow  of  Table 
Mountain,  and  rattle  off  across  the 
"  Flats  "  for  the  hunting  -  ground 
beyond. 

Our  Colonial  railway  system  may 
not  be  so  speedy  as  those  at  home, 
but  it  is  infinitely  more  advanced  in 
43 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
one  particular  :  its  hunting  rates  for 
horses,  hounds,  and  men  are  of  the 
very  lowest.  Therefore,  with  bless- 
ings on  a  directorate  so  sporting, 
we  seldom  fail  to  largely  patronise 
the  rail  for  hunting  meets.  But  to- 
night we  are  not  many  in  the  train  ; 
besides  the  Master  and  myself  (who 
act  as  whip)  there  are  no  members 
of  the  hunt  aboard.  To-morrow  a 
new  Governor  is  to  arrive  from 
England,  and  all  the  garrison  must 
be  there  to  see  him  safely  in.  But, 
in  order  that  the  farmers  of  the 
district  may  not  miss  their  fun,  a 
special  dispensation  from  parade  has 
been  granted  to  the  Master  and 
myself,  and  thus  we  find  ourselves 
travelling  forth  to  take  up  our  night's 
quarters  at  Maasfontein,  in  readiness 
44 


CAPE   FOXHOUNDS 
for  daybreak   hunting   ere  the  dew 
has  left  the  grass  and  the  sun  has 
parched  the  scent. 

In  less  than  an  hour  we  have 
reached  the  lonely  little  station, 
and,  after  disembarking  hounds  and 
horses,  we  jog  away  in  the  gathering 
darkness  over  the  two  miles  that 
separate  us  from  the  village.  Our 
baggage  we  carry  with  us,  as  the 
custom  of  the  country  is,  in  saddle- 
bags. In  a  hollow  in  the  open 
downs  we  come  upon  the  village, 
and  as  we  pass  its  single,  long,  tree- 
shaded  street,  the  men  and  house- 
wives peer  out  from  their  lamplit 
doors.  We  lodge  both  hounds  and 
horses  in  the  stables  of  the  single- 
storeyed  village  inn,  and  here  we  find 
a  number  of  our  hunting  farmers 
45 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
who  have  come  over  in  their  wag- 
gons for  the  meet ;  for  every  Dutch- 
man's waggon  forms  his  travelling 
home  for  markets,  meets,  or  fairs. 
And,  while  we  tackle  supper,  they  sit 
around  and  smoke,  and  talk  of  what 
the  sport  will  be. 

What  quaint  old  fellows  are  these 
rugged  bearded  Dutchmen  !  Slow, 
well-nigh  to  denseness,  outwardly, 
yet  in  reality  full  of  sporting  in- 
stinct, and  also  quick  enough  to  see 
and  to  resent  any  display  of  English 
hauteur  or  attempt  to  patronise. 
They  have  simply  to  be  treated  as 
equals  and  as  friends  ;  the  true  free- 
masonry of  sport  will  do  the  rest. 
It  is  a  pleasure  to  see  how  their  dull 
faces  can  light  up  and  their  whole 
demeanour  change  as  they  begin  to 
46 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
talk  on  sport.  After  giving  a  hopeful 
view  of  prospects  for  the  morrow, 
the  conversation  turns  on  other  lines, 
and  soon  we  are  thrilled  with  vivid 
tales  of  bygone  days  when  lions  and 
tuskers  formed  the  quarry  in  these 
same  districts,  where  now  we  scarce 
can  find  a  jackal. 

But  these  sportsmen  are  not  late 
sitters,  and  just  as  one  is  beginning 
to  think  whether  it  is  quite  good 
enough  to  hear  another  lion  story  at 
the  risk  of  being  asphyxiated  with 
the  reek  of  gin  and  Boer  tobacco, 
they  rise,  and,  with  their  hoarse 
"Goode-nachts/'they  clatter  out  into 
the  darkness  towards  their  several 
travelling  bedrooms.  Nor  do  we  long 
outsit  them,  for,  as  the  pig-sticking 
song  says, 

47 


A    RUN   WITH   THE 

To-morrow,  by  dawn,  we  must  be  on  our 
ground. 

After  a  final  sup  of  whisky  from  our 
private  stock,  and  a  glance  round 
the  stable  and  the  temporary  kennel 
in  the  wash-house,  we  turn  into 
our  beds  in  the  one  bare  empty 
room. 

Our  sleep  is  soon  slept.  The  un- 
rest natural  to  night  before  a  hunting 
day,  like  John  Peel's  cry, soon  "calls 
me  from  my  bed,"  and  I  slip  out  and 
indulge  in  a  glorious  "tub"  in  the 
horse-trough  in  front  of  the  inn.  It 
is  just  daybreak,  or,  as  the  Dutchmen 
term  it,  "the  light  for  seeing  the 
horns  of  an  ox "  ;  a  glow  is  in  the 
sky  behind  the  eastward  hills,  and  on 
the  village  camp-ground  the  twin- 
kling fires  show  that  the  farmers' 
48 


CAPE   FOXHOUNDS 
"boys"  are  preparing  the  morning 
coffee. 

An  hour  later  this  same  camp- 
ground, or  "  uitspan,"  as  it  is  called, 
is  the  scene  of  our  meet. 

The  farmers  soon  join  us,  mounted 
on  their  wiry  unkempt  little  horses, 
their  rusty  bits  and  stirrups  being  as 
unlike  the  turn-out  of  the  English 
hunting-field  as  are  the  riders'  cor- 
duroy trousers,  hobnailed  boots,  and 
wide  flapping  hats.  But,  dirty  and 
ragged  though  they  be,  the  horses 
are  both  clever  and  quick  in  bad 
ground,  and  wiry  and  enduring  to 
an  extent  that  would  hardly  be 
expected  from  their  narrow  chests 
and  quarters ;  while  the  riders,  stolid 
and  grumpy  as  is  their  demeanour, 
will  rouse  up  like  schoolboys  and  go 
49 


A   RUN   WITH   THE 
with  the  keenest  when  once  there  is 
fox  afoot. 

Cups  of  c  from  the  ox-dung 

camp-fires  passed   around,  and 

then  the  pasting  pipes  come  out 
and  are  rilled  by  the  simple  method 
of  plunging  them  into  the  capacious 
coat-pocket,  which  is  kept  rilled  with 
loose  "  Boer  "  tobacco.  The  strong 
aroma  hangs  as  heavily  as  its  blue 
smoke  on  the  raw  morning  air,  and 
promises  a  fine  scenting  morning  as 
we  trot  away  from  the  uitspan  towards 
our  hunting-ground. 

Our  hounds  would  perhaps  look 
strange  at  home — their  best  admirer 
could  scarcely  call  them  a  level  lot ; 
but  this  need  not  be  wondered  at 
when  it  is  remembered  that  we  have 
to  take  what  we  can  get  from  kind- 
50 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
hearted  Masters  all  over  England. 
The  fatal  "dog-sickness"  of  South 
Africa  plays  such  havoc  in  the  course 
of  a  season  as  to  necessitate  a  fresh 
draft  from  home  every  year.  Shipping 
charges  are  very  high,  and  the  funds 
of  the  hunt  are  per  contra  very  low, 
so  it  is  not  surprising  that  our  pack 
is  a  somewhat  mixed  one.  But, 
although  "a  rum  'tin  to  look  at,"  it 
is  a  "good  'un  to  go,"  and  every 
hound  in  it,  this  fine  hunting  morning, 
looks  hard  and  fit  for  anything. 

At  their  head  rides  our  Master,  as 
fine  a  specimen  of  the  British  soldier- 
sportsman  as  you  would  meet  in  a 
day's  march.  (Poor  Turner !  he 
gave  up  the  hounds  not  long  after 
the  day  I  am  here  describing,  and 
he  now  lies  buried  on  the  banks  of 
53 


A   RUN   WITH   THE 

the  Sabi,  away  there  beyond  Masho- 
naland.) 

Beside  myself  rides  George,  our 
whip,  a  Cape  lad  of  nondescript 
breed,  but  especially  useful  in  our 
hunting-field  from  his  proficiency  in 
the  art  of  " spooring"  or  tracking 
the  jackal  over  the  frequent  sand 
patches,  which  do  not  carry  scent. 

As  we  rise  the  hill  above 'the  village 
the  neighbouring  country  unfolds 
itself  before  us  in  a  succession  of 
undulations  of  grass  and  fallow  land 
and  occasional  patches  of  low  scrub 
and  heather.  There  are  no  fences 
beyond  occasional  boundary  banks, 
drainage  ditches,  and  dry  water- 
courses. Away  to  the  east  and 
north  the  downs  run  up  into  moun- 
tains, while  to  the  westward  lie  the 
54 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
"  Flats/'  sandy  heath-covered  plains, 
some  eight  miles  in  extent,  with  the 
grey-blue  mass  of  Table  Mountain 
rising  stark  and  sheer  from  out  the 
sea  beyond  them. 

Look  where  you  will — except  for 
two  or  three  widely  distant  clumps 
of  trees,  with  their  white  farm- 
buildings  among  them — there  is 
little  to  show  that  the  country  is  a 
populous  colony.  Most  of  the  farms 
and  villages,  being  built  near  water, 
lie  hidden  in  the  folds  of  the  ground. 

The  long,  broad  shadows  cast  by 
the  rising  sun  across  the  dewy  downs 
are  slowly  growing  shorter  as  we  jog 
along  towards  the  dark  heath-grown 
hillside  that  is  our  first  cover.  But 
ere  we  reach  it  a  fresh  delay  occurs. 
Over  the  brow  before  us  there  rise 
55  c 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
first  the  white  tilt  and  then  the 
nodding  horses  of  a  "  Cape  cart " 
trotting  fast  to  meet  us.  Within  it 
is  De  Villiers,  or,  as  the  rest  pro- 
nounce it,  "Filjee,"a  sporting-hearted 
farmer,  who,  although  he  does  not 
ride  himself,  loves  to  see  others  do 
it  boldly  if  not  well,  and  to  that  end 
he  never  fails  to  bring  a  good  supply 
of  "jumping  powder"  and  other 
similar  aids  to  horsemanship. 

In  the  present  case  this  diversion 
is  particularly  conducive  to  sport,  as 
it  serves  to  keep  our  usually  over- 
energetic  field  well  occupied  while 
hounds  are  drawing  cover.  The 
Master  waves  them  in,  and  George 
and  I  take  up  our  places  at  opposite 
corners  to  view  the  fox  away.  From 
where  I  stand  below  the  crest  I  see 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
but  little  of  the  cover  and  of  hounds 
at  work  within  it,  but  other  entertain- 
ment comes  to  me.  Anon  there  is 
the  slightest  rustle  in  the  bush,  and 
stealthily  a  hare  slips  out  and  squats 
quite  motionless  a  few  yards  from 
me ;  she  hearkens  backward,  her 
great  dark  eyes  bright-glistening  in 
the  sunlight ;  then  she  turns  and 
hunches  in  again,  but  a  minute  later 
the  Master's  cheering  voice  again 
sends  her  palpitating  on  to  the  open  ; 
a  moment's  pause,  and  then  away 
she  lits  adown  the  slope  and  scampers 
off  to  other  hiding-places.  Now 
creeping  up  towards  me,  close  along 
the  heather's  edge,  there  comes  a 
string  of  brown-grey  partridges  all 
scuttling  fast  in  frightened  hurry.  I 
wonder  who  gives  them  their  orders  ? 
57 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
They  act  upon  them  instantaneously. 
"Halt!"  they  all  crouch.  "Heads 
up  !  "  "  Fly  !  "  Whirr  !  and  the  whole 
brown  covey  are  off  together  down 
across  the  ravine  ;  then,  with  stiffened 
wings,  they  rise  the  other  slope  :  a 
sudden  wheel,  then  slide  up  and  up 
the  grassy  shoulder  without  a  single 
flutter  till  they  overtop — 

Hark — a  whimper!  No — yes  — 
another  !  Followed  by  the  anxious 
cry  of  others  owning  to  it. 

"Tally-ho!  Gone  away!" 
screeches  George  at  the  bottom 
corner. 

With  a  horse  like  my  old  "Toulon," 
who  knows  his  business,  my  shortest 
way  is  smack  through  the  cover.  So 
into  it  we  go  ;  plunging  here,  jump- 
ing there,  through  the  heavy  heath 
58 


CAPE   FOXHOUNDS 

and  scrub.  As  we  come  over  the 
hill-top  the  fun  is  spread  before  us. 
Just  in  time  we  are  to  view  him  cross 
the  ridge  in  front — a  fine  old  fox, 
looking  somewhat  like  the  little  rover 
of  Old  England,  but,  being  longer  in 
the  leg,  he  does  not  stretch  himself 
so  close  along  the  ground. 

Hounds  in  cheery  chorus  are 
stretching  after  him,  gleaming  white 
and  mottled  on  the  green  grass  slope. 
And  George,  not  far  behind  them,  in 
his  pink  and  leathers,  riding  a  bright 
bay  gelding,  completes  a  hunting 
picture  of  the  brightest  colouring, 
that  in  the  instant  photographs  itself 
upon  the  mind. 

And  now  the  Master  is  through  the 
brook-bog  in  the  bottom,  and  in  our 
turn  we  scramble  through,  bringing 
61 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
on  the  last  tail  hounds  from  out  the 
cover.  Then,  while  we  breast  the 
slope,  a  backward  glance  shows  all 
our  motley  field  are  tearing  down  to 
follow  us.  Now  we  top  the  rise  and 
find  an  open  stretch  before  us  ;  scent 
is  good,  and  hounds  are  racing  well 
together.  'Tis  grand  to  gallop  thus 
over  such  good  ground,  with  hounds 
lying  well  away  before  us,  and  the 
field  coming  equally  well  behind  ; 
while  the  keen  morning  air,  lighten- 
ing up  the  lungs  to  the  extremity  of 
buoyancy,  gives  one  a  taste  of  life 
that  is  divine. 

The  going  is  chiefly  rough,  long 
grass,  whose  only  fault  is  treachery, 
in  the  shape  of  "ant-bear  holes." 
These  are  the  burrows  of  the  ant- 
eater,  more  commonly  known  as  the 
62 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
ant-bear  or  ardvark  ("  earth-hog "). 
Luckily,  they  are  not  in  this  district 
so  plentiful  as  in  Natal  and  Zululand ; 
and  yet  one  hole  is  quite  enough  to 
spoil  your  hunting  for  the  day,  if  not 
for  ever.  The  ant-heaps,  too,  are 
obstacles,  but  honest  ones,  because 
they  are  not  invisible.  But  on  we 
fly,  as  though  such  things  existed 
not,  and  the  pace  is  good  enough  to 
take  us  clean  away  from  all  our 
following ;  but,  luckily  for  them, 
before  we've  had  two  miles  of  this 
most  glorious  burst,  a  cowboy  heads 
the  fox.  He  turns  his  line  and  takes 
adown  a  valley  to  our  left,  and  here 
he  finds  a  thick  and  scrubby  cover 
from  which  lead  many  blind  ravines. 
A  check,  while  hounds  endeavour 
to  worry  out  the  line,  gives  pause  for 
63 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
the  field  to  come  bustling  up.  Then 
some  dismount  to  ease  their  blowing 
nags,  while  others  ride  around  to 
help,  as  they  suppose,  the  non- 
plussed hounds.  Their  noisy  babel, 
as  they  talk  about  the  run  and  chaff 
late-comers,  would  annoy  one  were 
it  not  so  ludicrous  to  see  how  much 
a  gallop  moves  these  Dutchmen  from 
their  cold  stolidity. 

Now  one  young  hand,  supposing 
all  is  over,  off-saddles,  as  his  custom 
is,  and  leaves  his  horse  to  roll  ;  but 
at  that  moment  hounds  once  more 
hit  off  the  line,  and  helter-skelter,  off 
we  pelt,  leaving  this  young  man  to 
gain  experience.  Onward  down  the 
long  hillside  we  press,  now  bending 
right,  now  swinging  left,  but  ever 
edging  on  towards  the  "  Flats."  A 
64 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
ditch  and  boundary  bank  next  cause 
some  grief,  and  farther  on  an  ugly 
dry  ravine  brings  down  the  Master 
and  turns  a  large  proportion  of  the 
lield  to  seek  another  way. 

Hounds  now  are  tailing  off  a  bit. 
Young  Ranger  leads  the  rest,  as  is  his 
wont,  by  quite  a  hundred  yards : 
he's  far  too  fast,  but  we  cannot  well 
afford  to  trim  our  pack,  else  might 
we  well  dispense  with  Colleen,  too — 
a  small  dark  bitch,  whose  only  place 
is  at  the  Master's  heels ;  and  even 
when  he's  down,  she  waits  to  see  him 
safely  up  again. 

Our  fox  now  runs  us  through  a 
farmstead,  where,  among  the  cattle- 
kraals,  we  get  some  stone-wall  lep- 
ping.  At  length  we  reach  the  tract 
of  heath  and  dunes  that  forms  the 
65 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
"Flats,"  and  scent  falls  light  and 
catchy.  Slow  hunting  here  becomes 
the  order  of  the  day,  with  now  and 
then  a  sudden  burst  along  some 
grassy  bottom.  The  field,  though 
much  reduced  in  numbers,  is  more 
than  ever  keen,  and  follows  close- 
too  close — upon  the  hounds. 

"  Now,  Wanderer,  my  lad,  what  is 
it  ?  Lame  ?  "  No,  worse  !  Ay, 
poor  old  hound,  he  leaves  the  line, 
with  drooping  head  and  stern,  and 
walks  aside,  just  glancing  up,  as  if  to 
say,  "  Don't  mind  me,  old  friend,  go 
on  and  see  it  out "  ;  and  he  flings 
himself,  quite  helpless,  down  behind 
a  bush.  A  little  Kaffir  tending  cows 
close  by  agrees  to  nurse  him,  and,  if 
he  lives,  to  bring  him  home ;  but 
the  hunt  will  never  see  old  Wanderer 
66 


CAPE   FOXHOUNDS 
again.     Dog-sickness   always  for  its 
victims  seems  to  take  the  best. 

With  sorrow  at  my  heart,  I  push 
along  to  overtake  the  bobbing  crowd 
in  front,  and  find  them  checked 
beside  a  stretch  of  open  sand.  Here 
all  scent  fails,  and  George,  on  foot, 
is  taking  up  the  spoor,  hounds 
following  in  an  interested  group. 
Upon  the  sand  the  tracks  show 
where  the  fox  has  stopped  to  listen 
and  then  has  doubled  on  his  trail. 
Into  the  bush  once  more,  and — 
Tally-ho  ! — he  jumps  up  right  before 
us.  What  a  screech  of  men  and 
hounds  !  Old  Piet  Nielmann  rushes 
past  me,  lambasting  his  fully-blown 
horse  with  a  heavy  sjambok,  till  a 
sturdy  tussock  stretches  both  the 
rider  and  his  horse  upon  the  sand. 
67 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
The  crowd  go  racing  on.  Over 
yonder  rise  our  fox  is  viewed ;  a 
minute  later  we  are  there,  and  see 
the  fun  below.  He  doubles  in  some 
grass,  and  round  the  beauties  come, 
just  like  a  flock  of  pigeons  wheeling 
— a  crash,  a  snarl,  and  they  roll  him 
over  in  the  bottom.  Whowhoop  ! 

And  while  he  is  broken  up  in  the 
good  old  way,  the  knot  of  panting 
men  and  horses  is  gradually  added 
to  by  stragglers  coming  up  to  join 
the  chatter  and  the  talk  about  the 
run. 

Then  pipes  are  lit,  and,  in  the  best 
of  moods,  we  make  our  way  once 
more  towards  the  upland,  where  the 
farm  of  "  Filjee "  stands  out  white 
upon  the  hillside,  bare  except  for 
this  one  group  of  trees  and  build- 
68 


GEORGE   ACTING   AS   LEADING  HOUND 


CAPE   FOXHOUNDS 

ings.  On  drawing  near  we  find  a 
plain-faced  single-storeyed  house, 
with  windows  blinded  by  a  formal 
row  of  pollard-trees  set  close  in  front. 
Upon  the  stoep  or  terrace-step,  De 
Villiers  and  his  frau  receive  us. 
Within  the  steamy  room  (whose 
windows  never  open)  we  find  a 
plentiful  repast  laid  out,  of  beef, 
black  bread,  and  succotash,  backed 
by  an  imposing  display  of  bottles 
holding  "  square-face  "  gin,  pontac, 
and  van-der-Hum.  But  little  time  is 
lost  in  reconnoitring  this  formidable 
array,  and  our  hungry  sportsmen 
spring  to  the  attack  as  hounds  from 
leash.  Once  at  it,  they  are  fixed. 
Still,  we  know  the  scent  which  has 
favoured  us  so  far  may  not  last  all 
day,  so,  after  a  welcome  snack  and  a 
71 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
toast  to  our  sporting  entertainer,  a 
few  of  us  move  out  to  go  afield 
again.  But  not  so  the  majority : 
with  them  the  lunch  is  half  the 
hunt :  they  feel  they've  had  their 
run,  and  now  enjoy  its  complement. 
So  as  we  jog  away  to  covers 
higher  in  the  hills,  we  find  our  field 
reduced  to  three,  and  those  three 
not  likely,  with  their  overweighted 
mounts,  to  carry  on  for  long  if  the 
run  has  any  pace.  At  the  cross  a 
spruit  running  out  of  a  little  bushy 
glen,  hounds  suddenly  break  and 
feather  on  a  trail,  and,  bustling  up 
the  ravine,  they  pick  up  a  gradually 
improving  scent.  Forrard !  Forrard ! 
On  to  a  long  swelling  down  we  go, 
over  the  level  for  a  space,  and  then  a 
heavy  breather  up  to  the  top  ;  those 
72 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
whose  mounts  are  well  shouldered 
have  the  best  of  it  striding  down  the 
further  slope.  Through  a  network 
of  dry  watercourses,  where  the  scent 
falls  light,  they  hit  it  off  on  a  grand 
level  plateau  beyond.  Then  we  get 
a  real  good  ding-dong  gallop  that 
soon  polishes  off  our  little  field, 
and  leaves  us  three  alone  to  follow 
hounds,  while  praying  that  we  too 
may  not  get  left.  The  line  has  led 
us  straight,  without  a  swerve,  towards 
a  conical  hill,  whose  pointed  heath- 
clad  top  has  often  served  us  for  a 
landmark ;  and  hounds  are  tailing 
out  a  bit  on  the  lower  slopes  as  the 
line  takes  us  round  its  base.  Now 
Ranger,  who  is  far  ahead,  swerves 
suddenly,  then  circles  round,  the 
others  cast  about.  A  check  at  last  ! 
73 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
the  first  in  thirty  minutes.  Ranter 
has  it  !  but  for  a  moment  only  ;  he 
brings  it  up  a  watercourse,  and 
there's  the  earth  before  us  in  an 
overhanging  bank. 

It  should  be  an  easy  one  to  dig, 
"  had  we  but  weapons  handy."  And 
so  they  are.  Over  the  next  rise 
there  peeps  some  trees — the  trees  of 
Swartzkop  Farm.  George  canters 
off,  and  soon  is  back  with  pick  and 
spade.  We  link  our  three  horses  all 
together  with  their  reins,  and,  while 
George  and  I  proceed  to  dig,  the 
Master  holds  the  pack  away. 

Quick  work  we  are  making  with 
the  bank  when,  without  a  moment's 
warning,  through  a  cloud  of  dust  be- 
tween us,  there  springs  out  the  great 
red  "  Jack,"  and  flies  away  before 
74 


CAPE  FOXHOUNDS 
the  very  noses  of  the  pack.  For  one 
short  instant  they  scarce  realise  the 
case,  but  then  they  swoop  upon  the 
line  with  a  screaming  chorus  that 
would  wake  the  dead.  Indeed,  it 
wakes  something  more  important 
than  the  dead  :  it  causes  our  horses 
to  throw  up  their  heads,  and,  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation,  to  start  in 
pursuit,  in  no  little  gaiety  of  heart  at 
finding  themselves  without  the  usual 
burden  of  their  riders.  Helplessly 
we,  in  our  turn,  start  to  follow  ;  but 
they  are  streaming  away  over  the 
shoulder  before  us,  while  we,  pound- 
ing in  our  top-boots  through  heavy 
grass  and  heather,  find  ourselves 
well  pumped  within  a  hundred 
yards.  The  hounds  are  gone,  the 
horses  top  the  sky-line,  still  tied  head 
75  D 


A  RUN  WITH  THE 
to  head,  but  galloping  with  all  their 
might  ;  they  disappear,  and  after 
them,  more  faithful  to  the  Master's 
horse  than  Master,  there  goes  Col- 
leen. They're  gone  !  We  pause,  and, 
blowing  hard,  we  make  a  few  appro- 
priate remarks.  And  then  we  turn 
to  climb  the  peak  in  hopes,  at  least, 
of  seeing  how  the  hunt  may  end. 
We  struggle  up  and  clamber,  none 
the  better  for  our  boots  and  spurs 
and  feverish  haste.  Anon  we  pause 
for  breath,  when  lo,  behind  us,  the 
fox  is  pounding  heavily  up  the  hill  ! 
He  has  completely  circled  round  it, 
and  again  is  making  for  the  earths 
that  lie  beside  us.  But  close  upon 
his  brush  there  follows  Ranger,  ever 
to  the  fore,  with  all  the  ruck  not 
many  yards  behind.  Now  Ranger's 
76 


CAPE   FOXHOUNDS 
almost  on  him  ;  he  turns  upon  his 
foe. 

Each  rears  on  end  with  an  angry 
worry  at  the  other's  throat,  but  in  a 
second  more  the  white  and  mottled 
avalanche  is  on  them,  and  it  is  a 
struggling  mass  of  tugging,  growling 
hounds  that  we  spring  into  with 
"Whowhoop!" 


79 


THE   ORDEAL 
OF  THE  SPEAR 


THE   ORDEAL 
OF   THE   SPEAR 


N  the  deep  shade  of  a 
mango  tope,  in  the 
Meerut  Kadir,  a  camp 
was  pitched  for  the 
Christmas  pig-sticking  meet.  Among 
some  adjoining  trees  a  few  more 
tents  formed  the  temporary  home  of 
some  ladies  who  had  come  out  to 
the  jungle  to  witness  the  sport. 

Among  these  were  Edna  Clay  and 
her  mother. 

(Had   they  been   English    people 
83 


THE   ORDEAL 

I  should  possibly  have  referred  to 
them  in  the  reverse  order ;  but 
with  Americans  the  relative  import- 
ance of  the  members  of  a  family  is, 
as  a  rule,  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  that 
which  obtains  in  England.  The 
American  fathers  and  brothers  come 
at  the  back-end  of  the  list,  while  the 
daughter  of  the  house  leads  at  the 
head.) 

The  Clays  had  been  wintering  in 
Meerut,  where  the  good  climate  and 
the  social  cheeriness  of  the  large 
military  station  contributed  to  make 
it  an  agreeable  substitute  for  the 
usual  Continental  watering  -  places 
that  form  the  habitat  of  Americans 
blizzarded  out  of  their  own  country. 

Having  many  friends  among  the 
6th  Hussars  at  Meerut,  the  ladies  had 
84 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
been  readily  persuaded  to  come  and 
try  what  camp  life  was  like,  and  to 
see  a  little  of  this  wonderful  sport 
which  they  found  from  experience 
was  apt  to  draw  men  away  from  their 
most  solemn  engagements.  "  Pig- 
sticking "  was  a  talisman  that  appa- 
rently entitled  men  to  break  off  an 
acceptance  to  dinner,  or  to  disappear 
in  the  middle  of  a  dance,  to  drive  off 
in  their  dak  gharri  to  some  distant 
meet. 

The  light  rains  which  usually  fell 
about  Christmas-time  had  not  come, 
consequently  in  the  middle  of  the 
day  the  sun  was  powerful,  and  pig- 
sticking was  only  carried  out  in  the 
mornings  and  afternoons. 

To-day,  although  none  of  the  heat 
of  the  midday  sun  was  able  to  pene- 
85 


THE   ORDEAL 

trate  through  the  massive  foliage  of 
the  mango-trees  and  the  double  fly 
of  the  roomy  tent  beneath  them, 
Miss  Edna  seemed  in  a  restless 
mood.  She  could  not  sit  down  to 
write,  as  her  mother  did,  long  screeds 
to  their  men-kind  at  home,  nor  was 
she  gifted  with  the  power  to  sketch 
the  sunny  view  outside  their  door ; 
her  banjo  lay  neglected  in  its  case, 
and  the  latest  novels  failed  to-day  to 
attract  her. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?"  asked 
the  patient  mother  for  the  fourth 
time,  looking  up  from  her  letter- 
writing. 

"  It   is   this,  mamma.     I   am   not 

going  to   leave    India — I   know   it." 

She  was   standing  at   the   moment, 

with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her, 

86 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
staring  out  at  the  sunlit  scene  ;  then 
she  turned  suddenly  to  her  mother, 
and  with  unwonted  vehemence  ex- 
claimed, "  I've  been  a  fool.  I  can- 
not help  it.  I  have  let  myself  fall  in 
love.  I  never  thought  about  it — I 

never  foresaw  it.     And  now "  she 

paused,  looking  out  again  across  the 
sea  of  yellow  grass. 

Her  mother  had  laid  aside  her  pen 
and  taken  off  her  glasses,  scarcely 
surprised,  but  beaming,  anxious  to 
hear  more.  "Well,  my  dear,  and 
why  not  ?  I  have  long  seen  how  he 
admires  you.  And  as  for  not  leaving 
India — that  would  be  about  the  first 
thing  you  would  do.  He  has  told 
me  how  he  wants  to  retire  from  the 
army  as  soon  as  he  can  get  a  good 
excuse — to  go  and  live  in  his  own 
87 


THE   ORDEAL 

family  mansion,  a  superb  place  from 
what " 

"  Mamma,"  interrupts  poor  Edna, 
almost  tearfully,  "  it  is  not  '  the 
Devil '  I  am  in  love  with — I  wish  it 
were  !  It  is  the  '  Deep  C. ! '" 

To  say  that  she  was  taken  aback 
would  scarcely  express  the  state  of 
mind  into  which  Mrs.  Clay  was 
thrown  by  this  avowal.  In  vain  she 
sought  for  words  to  express  her  pro- 
test ;  this  match  between  her  daughter 
and  the  Honourable  Jack  Austin, 
better  known  among  his  friends  as 
"  the  Devil,"  she  had  fondly  pictured 
to  herself,  and  secretly  and  very 
cautiously  had  furthered  to  the  best 
of  her  ability.  For  what  other  reason 
had  she,  at  her  time  of  life,  left  the 
comforts  of  a  well-ordered  house  in 
88 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
Meerut  for  the  unknown  ills  of  camp 
life,  but  that  Jack  Austin  would  be 
of  the  party  of  pig-stickers  in  whose 
company  she  and  Edna  were  to  be 
thrown  ?  Her  dream,  which  had 
seemed  about  to  culminate  in  reality, 
had  been  shattered  at  one  blow,  and 
she  could  scarcely  for  the  moment 
realise  the  fact. 

"And  the  'Deep  C.'  too— of  all 
people!"  This  was  Major  Calvert 
of  the  6th,  a  dark,  handsome,  but 
taciturn  man.  "Whatever  could  Edna 
see  in  him  ? "  were  points  that  sug- 
gested themselves  to  her  mind. 

"But,  my  dear  child,"  she  urged 
aloud,  considerately  putting  in  the 
second  place  that  which  she  con- 
sidered very  much  in  the  first, 
"  Major  Calvert  is  so— so  staid  ;  and 
89 


THE   ORDEAL 

Mr.   Austin    is    Lord    Ravensham's 
heir,  you  know." 

"  I  know,  I  know  all  that.  And  I 
like  'the  Devil'  better  than  I  liked 
any  one  before.  He  is,  for  one  thing, 
a  gentleman.  Only  yesterday  he  was 
telling  me  all  about  his  home  and  his 
people.  His  mother  and  sisters  must 
be  sweet.  And  I  thought  then  how 
lovely  it  would  be — but  to-day,  I  see 
that  it  is  impossible." 

Edna  here  sank  down  into  a  low 
chair,  and,  after  toying  for  an  instant 
with  a  paper-knife,  resumed  her 
troubled  gaze  on  the  distant  scene, 
resting  her  chin  upon  her  hand. 

The  mother,  in  her  confusion  of 
mind,  remained  silent,  and  the  girl 
presently  continued  her  almost  sad 
confession. 

90 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
"  Yes ;  I  had  always  looked  on 
Major  Calvert  as  the  best  of  my 
friends,  as  he  was  Mr.  Austin's. 
Indeed,"  she  added,  with  a  slight 
laugh,  "  I  would  almost  sooner  have 
gone  to  him  for  advice  in  a  difficulty 
than  to  you,  mamma.  With  him  1 
always  felt  that  I  was  with  an  old 
friend.  To-day,  coming  back  from 
pig-sticking  on  the  elephant  with 
him,  I  was  chaffing  him  for  being  so 
staid,  when  in  reality  his  mind  is  full 
of  fun.  Then  I  saw  a  look  cross  his 
eyes  that  made  me  ask — without 
thinking — if  he  was  in  any  trouble. 
He  told  me  then  the  sad  sorrowful 
little  story  of  his  life,  which  he  has 
never  spoken  of,  even  to  Mr.  Austin. 
And  when  he  told  me  that  it  was  my 
kindness  and  sympathy  had  drawn 
91 


THE    ORDEAL 

him  out,  I  thought  what  a  prize  he 
would  be  to  any  one  as  her  helpmeet 
for  life.  Now  I  know  that  I  love  him 
as  I  never  cared  for  any  man  before. 
And  yet " — with  a  fluttering  sigh  of  a 
laugh — "  I  suppose  he  would  not 
look  at  me  !  " 


In  the  meantime,  while  this  con- 
versation was  going  on  between  Mrs. 
Clay  and  her  daughter,  in  the  neigh- 
bouring camp  Jack  Austin  and  Cal- 
vert  were,  by  way  of  smoking  to- 
gether, in  the  latter's  tent.  I  have 
never  heard  who  first  called  them  "the 
Devil"  and  the  "Deep  Sea."  Though 
unlike  each  other  in  very  many 
ways,  they  were  an  unusually  good 
pair  of  friends.  If  you  fell  out  with 
one — which  was  not  an  easy  thing 
92 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
to  do — you  fell  out  with  both.  Jack 
Austin,  "the  Devil,"  was  a  cheery, 
light-hearted,  typical  British  sub- 
altern, ready  for  any  game  that  was 
going,  while  Major  Calvert,  "the 
Deep  C.,"  though  a  keen  sportsman 
and  full  of  dry  and — what  is  not 
always  the  same  thing — kindly  hu- 
mour, was  of  a  quiet  disposition, 
avoiding  rather  than  courting  society, 
and  was  therefore  credited  with 
having  some  character  below  the 
surface.  Many  a  man,  indeed,  has 
passed  as  a  clever  one  before  the 
world  simply  because  he  has  been 
wise  enough  not  to  let  out  to  what 
extent  he  is  a  fool. 

Why  the  two   men    should    have 
become  such  peculiarly  good  friends 
it  is  difficult  to  see,  as  theoretically 
93  3 


THE   ORDEAL 

like  to  the  like  is  the  proper  apposi- 
tion ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this 
does  not  work  out  in  practice,  where 
like  with  the  unlike  very  often  hit 
it  off  completely  and  satisfactorily. 
Such  had,  in  fact,  happened  in  this 
case. 

In  their  tent  this  morning,  after 
the  events  of  the  morning's  pig- 
sticking had  been  discussed,  there 
had  been  very  little  conversation 
between  them ;  both  had  sat  silently 
smoking  for  some  time,  which,  after 
all,  is  the  way  of  good  friends.  Sud- 
denly the  Devil  broke  the  silence  by 
exclaiming,  "  Look  here,  Bloggs  " — 
Bloggs  was  the  name  by  which  he 
usually  addressed  Major  Calvert 
when  not  on  parade — "  I  am  tired  of 
soldiering.  I've  hung  on  a  bit  hoping 
94 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
to  see  a  little  service,  but  British 
cavalry  seem  to  be  too  carefully 
bottled  up  nowadays  for  one  to  have 
a  chance  of  it.  You  have  been  lucky, 
and  so,  perhaps,  you  can't  enter  into 
my  feelings.  But  that's  how  it  is, 
and  I'm  going  to  send  in  my 
papers ! " 

"  My  dear  chap,  I  quite  agree  with 
you  about  our  fine  old  crusted 
cavalry,  but  a  day  may  yet  come  ! 
And  besides,  I  don't  see  exactly  why 
this  sudden  resolution,  now,  with  the 
pig-sticking  and  polo  tournament 
just  coming  on.  You  haven't  had  to 
do  orderly  officer  'more  than  three 
days  a  week  on  an  average,'  as  Mr. 
Glimmer  would  say — what  has  put 
your  back  up  ?  " 

"Nothing  has  put   my   back   up. 
95 


THE   ORDEAL 

It's  the  other  way.     I'm  going  to  ask 
Miss  Clay  to  be  my  wife." 

"  Good  heavens ! "  This  came 
with  so  sharp  a  change  of  tone 
from  Calvert  that  Austin  almost 
jumped  round  in  his  chair  to  look 
at  him. 

"  What  is  it,  old  chap  ?  Do  you 
know  anything  against  it  ? "  cried 
Austin. 

"  No — at  least,  not  exactly — except 
that — well,  I  had  intended  to  do  the 
same  thing  myself." 

"You!" 

"  Yes,  but  it  never  struck  me  that 
you  were  meaning  anything  that  way. 
I  never  thought " 

Then  both  relapsed   into   silence 
for  a  moment,  till  Austin  summed  up 
the  situation  with  the  remark  ; 
96 


\ 


A   VETERAN    HAND   AT   THE   GAME 


OF   THE  SPEAR 

"  Well,  by  gum,  we  are  in  a  queer 
hat !  What  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

There  was  then  a  silence  for  so 
long  that  Austin,  coming  back  to 
the  actual  situation  first,  exclaimed, 
"  Bloggs,  are  you  asleep  ?  "  Calvert, 
who  was  lying  back  in  an  armchair, 
no  longer  smoking,  merely  flung 
back  the  word  with  some  scorn  in 
his  tone,  "A-sleep  !" 

The  Devil,  finding  that  he  had  an 
audience,  proceeded  to  give  out  his 
views  :  "Well,  I've  been  thinking  it 
over,  and  I  don't  see  a  way  out  of  the 
difficulty.  You  haven't  asked  her, 
you  say  ;  have  you  broken  ground  at 
all?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  in  a  way  broken  the 
ice." 

"Well,  then,  we're  no  better  off 
99 


THE   ORDEAL 

than  before.  For  I've  been  prepar- 
ing her  by  telling  her  all  about  my 
people  and  prospects,  and  so  on, 
though  I've  not  asked  her  right  out. 
But  it  seems  to  me  she  is  very  young, 
you  know,  and  you're  getting  on  a 
bit " 

"Thanks,  Jack,  but  I'm  not  so  old 
as  all  that ;  and  even  if  she  took  a 
man  of  my  age,  it  would  be  better  for 
her  than  being  shackled  on  to  a 
flighty  young  Devil  like  you." 

The  Devil  gave  up  this  argument 
with  a  sigh,  and  lay  back  in  his  chair 
with  his  arms  behind  his  head,  star- 
ing at  the  ceiling  for  further  inspira- 
tion. 

Presently  Calvert  continued :  "  No, 
my  boy,  I  am  perfectly  fixed  on  it. 
But  are  you  quite  sure  that  you  mean 

100 


OF   THE   SPEAR 
business  ?    May  it  not  be  with  you 
one    of    those     fascinations    which 
you'll  allow  do  come  to  you  now  and 
then?" 

"  No ;  in  those  affairs  I  never 
speak  of  my  people  and  prospects/' 
retorted  the  Devil  with  proper  pride. 

"  Quite  right.  I  even  found  a 
difficulty  in  speaking  of  my  pros- 
pects, so  gave  her  more  of  my  past, 
from  which  she  could  herself  evolve 
my  character." 

"  Your  past  !  Oh,  by  George  ! 
then  I  give  in.  A  man  with  a  past 
is  a  hopeless  chap  to  contend  against. 
A  girl  will  jump  at  him  like  a  trout 
at  a  fly  ;  she  don't  care  what  his 
future  is  likely  to  be  provided  he  has 
got  a  past.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  that 
we  are  as  we  were." 
101 


THE   ORDEAL 

"  We  shall  have  to  leave  it  to  her 
to  decide.  But,  look  here,  it  is  tea- 
time  over  there ;  we  ought  to  be 
going.  I  don't  see  any  use  in  cutting 
each  other's  throats  over  it ;  but  it  is 
a  hat  ! " 

A  few  minutes  later  they  were 
wending  their  way  across  to  the 
ladies'  camp,  when  Austin,  who  had 
been  silent  for  some  time,  suddenly 
stopped  Calvert  and  excitedly  began, 
"  Bloggs,  I  see  a  way  !  I  was  think- 
ing how  evenly  matched  we  are  at 
this  new  game,  just  as  we  are  said  to 
be  at  polo  and  pig-sticking.  If  we 
leave  the  settlement  of  the  thing  to 
her  we  shall  be  working  against  each 
other  all  the  time,  we  shall  both  ask 
her,  which  will  be  very  uncomfort- 
able for  her,  and  she'll  have  to  say 

102 


OF  THE   SPEAR 
'No'  to  one  of  us,  which  will   be 

d d  uncomfortable  for  him.    One 

is  almost  inclined  to  draw  lots  about 
it,  but  that  is  so  jolly  unsatisfactory 
for  the  loser.  What  do  you  say  to 
having  a  match  after  a  pig,  you  and 
I,  and  whoever  wins  to  have  first 
right  to  ask  her  ?  I'm  lighter  than 
you,  but  then  they  say  that  a  man 
over  thirty  is  better  at  pig-sticking 
and  polo  than  a  young  'un,  so  that 
about  makes  us  level.  Your  little 

Arab  is " 

Calvert,  who  had  smiled  curiously 
at  this  new  idea  of  the  boy's,  while 
his  eyes  sparkled  at  the  sporting 
smack  of  it,  now  suddenly  grasped 
Jack's  hand  and  laughingly  said, 
"  Right  you  are,  old  boy ;  let's  have 
it  that  way.  The  ordeal  of  the  spear 
103 


THE   ORDEAL 

shall  decide  who  has  the  first  right 
to  ask  her." 

That  night  at  dinner  it  was  known 
that  "the  Devil "  and  the  " Deep  C." 
were  to  ride  a  match  after  pig  for  a 
wager  the  following  morning.  An 
umpire  was  detailed  to  start  them 
and  to  see  fair  play.  Bets  were 
made  among  such  sportsmen  as  were 
that  way  inclined  according  to  their 
several  fancies,  but  on  every  hand  it 
was  admitted  that  there  was  not 
much  to  choose  between  the  two 
competitors. 

At  an  early  hour  the  beat  was 
under  way.  The  line  of  beaters  was 
backed  up  by  an  imposing  show  of 
elephants.  Upon  these  were  mounted 
most  of  the  sportsmen  who  were 
keen  to  see  this  match  run  off.  In 
104 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
front  of  the  centre  of  the  line  rode 
Jack  Austin  on  his  keen  little  Waler 
mare,  "  Lovelei,"  and  Major  Calvert 
on  his  Arab  "  Kismet,"  and  in  close 
attendance  rode  "  old  "  Baynton,  the 
collector  of  the  district,  a  veteran 
hand  at  the  game,  and  still  hard  to 
beat  as  a  straight-going,  deadly  man 
after  a  pig. 

The  ladies  were  not  yet  out,  but 
an  elephant  had  been  left  at  their 
camp  to  bring  them  on  when  ready. 

The  line  slowly  and  quietly  beat 
its  way  through  the  long  grass  of  the 
Kadir  plain,  working  gradually  away 
from  the  tree  jungle  and  the  nullahs 
that  fringe  the  edge  of  it.  A  few 
small  pig  were  soon  afoot,  but 
nothing  that  Baynton  considered 
rideable. 

105 


THE   ORDEAL 

Suddenly  there  arises  a  loud  yelling 
from  the  beaters  on  the  extreme 
flank  of  the  line.  Old  Lutchman, 
the  shikari,  knowing  of  the  match,  is 
for  once  in  his  life  excited.  Standing 
on  his  elephant  he  holloas  the  party 
on,  "  Wuh  jata  hai !  burra  dant- 
wallah!" 

Baynton,  clapping  spurs  to  his 
horse,  leads  the  way  in  the  direction 
indicated,  closely  followed  by  the 
two  riders.  In  a  minute  or  so  he  is 
able  to  point  out  to  them  the  form 
of  a  fine  young  boar  louping  away 
through  the  yellow  grass,  back  in 
the  direction  of  the  nullahs. 

"  Do  you  all  see  him  ?  "  he  cries  : 
"  then,  ride  ! "  And  away  go  Jack 
and  Calvert  with  an  even  start. 

The  pig  has  got  a  good  offing,  and 
106 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
is  going  at  a  very  fair  pace,  so  that 
they  have  a  long,  straight  gallop 
before  them  to  begin  with.  What 
are  their  thoughts  at  this  moment  it 
is  hard  to  say,  but  possibly  the  sense 
of  the  importance  of  the  occasion  is 
already  drowned  in  the  more  palpable 
delight  of  a  racing  gallop  with  the 
game  in  view. 

That  they  are  both  putting  on  an 
extra  turn  of  speed  is  evident  from 
the  way  they  are  leaving  old  Baynton 
behind,  though  he  is  by  no  means 
undermounted.  Gradually,  however, 
slowly  and  surely  the  weight  begins 
to  tell,  and  Jack  shows  a  little  ahead 
of  his  rival.  Elated  he  presses  on, 
steadily  improving  his  lead. 

They  are  now  nearing  the  boar, 
and  he,   laying  back  his  ears  and 
109 


THE   ORDEAL 

giving  a  backward  glance  from  the 
tail  of  his  eye,  cracks  on  his  better 
pace  and  leads  them  a  burster. 

Closer  and  closer  to  him  draws 
Jack  on  Lovelei,  with  Calvert  some 
three  or  four  lengths  behind. 

Now  Jack  gets  ready  his  spear, 
and  letting  in  knees  and  spurs,  lifts 
Lovelei  with  a  rush  to  the  pig.  At 
the  same  time  the  boar  seems  for  a 
second  to  shorten  his  stride,  but  the 
next  moment,  when  the  horse  is  at 
its  fastest  and  he  at  his  most  collected 
pace,  he  suddenly  shoots  off  at  right 
angles  to  his  line,  thereby  gaining 
several  lengths  before  his  pursuer 
can  turn.  But  this  manoeuvre  lets 
up  the  second  man  ;  Calvert,  quickly 
.turning  on  to  the  new  line,  now 
rides  the  boar.  Gradually  and 
IIP 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
steadily  he  comes  up  to  him  ;  his 
spear  is  ready  ;  the  boar  pricks  his 
ears  and  gallops  high  as  he  shortens 
his  stride.  Calvert  knows  that  a 
"jink  "  is  coming,  collects  his  horse, 
and  is  ready  for  it  when  the  pig  sud- 
denly turns  across  his  front.  Round 
he  comes  on  the  instant  in  the  same 
direction,  and  Jack,  who  is  close 
behind,  similarly  turns  to  the  left ; 
but  before  they  have  gone  two 
strides  the  pig  twists  abruptly  round 
again  and  leaves  them  both  several 
lengths  to  the  bad  as  once  more  he 
heads  for  the  nullahs. 

Again  it  is  a  neck-and-neck  race 
between  the  two  riders,  Calvert  hav- 
ing a  little  the  best  of  the  start.  In- 
deed, it  is  a  ding-dong  race  between 
all  three,  for  the  boar  has  his  head 
in 


THE   ORDEAL 

set  for  the  tree-jungle,  which  is  now 
not  far  distant,  and  he  knows  that 
there  lies  his  only  chance  of  escape. 
As  they  near  the  jungle,  the  ele- 
phant bearing  Miss  Clay  comes  out 
from  among  the  trees,  and  she  thus 
has  an  excellent  view  of  the  race, 
though  little  she  knows  how  much 
its  issue  may  affect  her  own  future. 
Calvert  is  closing  on  the  pig,  and 
another  stride  or  two  should  land 
him  within  spearing  distance,  when 
suddenly  —  whether  in  a  buffalo- 
wallow  or  over  a  hard  tussock — 
Kismet  pecks  heavily,  almost  on  to 
his  head;  but  though  he  recovers 
himself  in  a  trice,  the  momentary 
check  lets  up  Jack  on  Lovelei. 
Nor  is  he  slow  to  take  his  chance ; 
cramming  his  horse  to  the  front  with 

"55 


OF  THE  SPEAR 
one  extra  spurt,  he  comes  on  the  pig 
with  a  rush,  and  leaning  low  he 
drives  his  spear-point  into  the  burly 
flank.  It  is  not  a  good  spear,  but  it 
counts  as  "  first." 

At  this  moment  for  the  first  time 
he  sees  that  Miss  Clay,  now  close 
above  them,  is  spectator  of  the 
game.  The  magnitude  of  what  he 
had,  in  winning  first  spear,  won, 
now  dawns  upon  him,  and  as  he 
tosses  high  his  spear,  his  lungs  give 
vent  to  an  ear-piercing  "  who-hoop  " 
of  exultation. 

Calvert,  probably  too  engrossed  in 
the  matter  in  hand  to  realise  his  loss, 
dashes  in,  and  with  a  crashing  stroke 
rolls  the  boar  head  over  heels.  But 
the  trees  are  near ;  the  pig  is  up 
again  and  quickly  in  among  them. 


THE   ORDEAL 

Here  he  gains  a  little  on  the  men 
until  an  open  glade  is  reached, 
where,  finding  that  they  press  him 
still,  he  turns,  and  beginning  with  a 
shambling  trot,  breaks  into  a  gallop, 
and  with  ears  pricked  and  fire  in  his 
eye  comes  in  at  the  charge.  It  is 
met  with  all  the  shock  of  a  firmly 
held  spear  and  a  fast-moving  horse, 
and  he  reels  back  repulsed  but  not 
daunted ;  a  second  time  he  hurls 
himself  against  a  foe,  and  a  second 
time  the  deadly  spear  crashes  into 
him.  He  can  do  no  more.  Dis- 
abled, he  sinks  on  his  haunches,  his 
jaws,  champing  in  anger,  drop  foam 
and  blood.  As  his  enemies  once 
more  approach  he  turns  to  face 
them,  his  little  eyes  gleaming  red 
with  rage,  but  he  cannot  rise,  and  a 
114 


OF   THE   SPEAR 

merciful    spear    through    the   heart 
drops  the  gallant  beast  dead. 

While  Jack  is  loosing  Lovelei's 
girths,  he  feels  a  kindly  pat  on  the 
shoulder  as  Calvert  says  to  him, 
"  Well  done,  old  boy  ;  go  in  and  try 
your  luck.  It  was  a  good  run,  wasn't 

it?" 

*  #  #  * 

As  they  led  their  tired  horses 
slowly  back  towards  the  open  a 
native  came  hurriedly  towards  them 
from  some  neighbouring  huts.  With 
a  scared  face  he  told  his  story. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  stand- 
ing beside  the  body  as  it  lay  upon 
a  common  native  charpoy.  She 
looked  almost  as  if  she  were  resting 
after  a  bout  of  tennis.  Her  white 
frock  and  gay  silk  blouse  were  fresh 
117 


ORDEAL  OF  THE  SPEAR 
and  scarcely  dishevelled  ;  but  there 
was  an  awkward  uprightness  about 
the  small  brown  shoes ;  her  form 
seemed  flattened  down  into  the  cot, 
and  the  unnatural  sternness  about 
the  waxen  face,  with  its  half-closed 
eyes  and  parted  lips,  showed  that 
Edna  Clay  was  dead. 

Her  elephant,  frightened  at  the 
final  rush  and  turmoil  of  the  race, 
had  turned  and  fled  among  the  trees, 
to  the  instant  destruction  of  the 
howdah  and  its  occupant. 


118 


THE   SPORT  OF   RAJAHS 


THE   SPORT  OF   RAJAHS 


(N  the  smoking-room  at 
Norreys  Court,  the 
other    night,    we    had 
a    great    pig  -  sticking 
"  buck." 

As  is  usual  where  a  few  Britons 
are  gathered  together,  several  of  the 
party  had  visited  India  and  knew 
something  of  the  subject,  but  it 
struck  me  forcibly  how  ignorant, 
as  a  rule,  are  home-keeping  sports- 
men of  this  and  kindred  Eastern 
sports. 

123 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
They  seem  to  understand  that 
some  sort  of  sunshine  of  sport  lies 
behind  the  veil  of  distance  which 
separates  England  from  India,  but  it 
is  only  occasionally  that  a  ray  breaks 
through  the  cloud — in  the  shape  of  a 
book  or  article — and  gives  them  a 
glint  of  the  glamour  that  lies  beyond. 
India,  in  the  matter  of  sport,  has 
stood  the  test  of  time  far  better 
than  any  of  her  rivals.  In  early 
ages  India  and  America  proved 
equally  attractive  to  adventurous 
sportsmen.  But  in  America  bison, 
grizzly,  deer,  and  Redskin  came  to 
be  gradually  and  effectively  wiped 
out  under  the  deadly  bead-drawing 
of  "  Old  Rube  "  and  his  kind. 

Then  arose  South  Africa  as  a  rival, 
and  although   her  day  has   been  a 
124 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
happy  one,  its  sun  is  setting  ;  ere  the 
next  century  has  well  begun,  ad- 
vancing civilisation  and  improved 
breechloaders  will  have  cleared  off 
the  elephant,  rhino,  lion,  and  buck 
that  have  made  Africa  so  happy  a 
hunting-ground  these  past  sixty  years. 
Yet  India  still  maintains  her  head 
of  game,  and  bids  fair  to  do  so  for 
many  years  to  come.  From  the 
North,  with  its  Oves  ammon  and 
poli,  bears  and  ibex,  to  the  South, 
with  its  tiger,  buffalo,  sambur,  and 
boar,  the  sportsman  finds  game 
worthy  of  his  steel,  in  addition  to 
abundance  of  the  lesser  kind  of 
buck  and  bird,  and  fish  and  fowl. 
But,  as  an  old  doggerel  has  it, 

The  sport  that  beats  them  o'er  and  o'er 
Is  that  wherein  we  hunt  the  boar. 
125 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
Pig-sticking  is  the  acknowledged 
king  of  Eastern  sports,  and  there  are 
many  reasons   why   it    should    and 
must  be  so. 

For  one  thing,  it  demands  the 
assistance  of  the  horse,  and  this  in 
itself  commends  it  more  particularly 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  Then  it  is 
one  of  the  few  sports  in  which  the 
hunter  is  almost  always  associated 
with  others  of  his  kind.  In  most 
big-game  expeditions  the  shooter  is 
attended  only  by  a  few  trackers  or 
beaters  —  more  guns  would  spoil 
sport ;  and,  although  there  may  be, 
and  is,  a  certain  charm  for  a  time  in 
such  solitary  life,  yet  eventually  the 
sportsman  cannot  but  long  for  com- 
panionship of  his  fellows  in  his 
evening  camp.  Nor  is  it  good  for  a 
126 


THE   KING  OF  EASTERN   SPORTS 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
man  to  become  accustomed  to  a 
solitary  life  ;  Englishmen  are  already 
misanthropical  and  reserved  enough 
in  all  conscience,  without  such  fur- 
ther training.  In  pig-sticking,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  hunters  live, 
and  move,  and  hunt  in  parties  ;  and 
yet  individual  excellence  is  as 
necessary  as  ever  to  success, 
while  it  gains  the  additional  spice 
born  of  friendly  rivalry  with  one's 
fellows. 

Again,  the  risks  and  chances, 
which  after  all  form  a  great  part 
of  the  charm  of  most  wild  sports, 
are  in  pig  -  sticking  incomparably 
greater  than  those  in  ordinary  tiger- 
shooting  ;  that  is  to  say,  tiger-shoot- 
ing from  an  elephant,  for  I  do  not 
look  on  that  carried  out  on  foot  as 
129 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
anything   but  foolhardiness,   except 
under  special  circumstances. 

Moreover,  the  quarry  is  not  only 
fast  and  crafty,  but  he  is  also  plucky, 
powerful,  and  cruel ;  he  enters  fully 
into  the  spirit  of  the  chase,  and  he 
will  generally  give  you  a  good  fight 
as  well  as  a  good  run  for  your 
money. 

That  pig- sticking  has  an  affinity  to 
the  sport  of  all  true  British  sports- 
men— viz.,  fox-hunting — cannot  be 
denied,  but  that  there  exists  a  neck- 
and-neck  resemblance  between  them 
is  not  so  easy  to  see.  Yet  much 
midnight  oil  and  gas,  liquid  and 
tobacco  smoke,  have  been  consumed 
in  country-house  billiard-rooms  over 
the  discussion  and  comparison  of 
their  respective  merits. 
130 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  pig-sticking 
may  equally  claim  an  affinity  with 
polo  and  with  racing.  And  to  the 
glorious  attractions  of  these  it  adds 
a  taste  of  the  best  of  all  hunts — 
namely,  the  pursuit,  with  a  good 
weapon  in  your  hand,  of  an  enemy 
whom  you  want  to  kill. 

In  pig-sticking  every  man  rides  to 
hunt,  whereas  in  fox-hunting  the 
majority  (although  for  some  occult 
reason  they  will  seldom  own  to  it) 
hunt  to  ride.  The  first  part  of  a  pig- 
sticking run  partakes  rather  of  the 
nature  of  a  point-to-point  race,  since 
each  man  is  endeavouring  to  be  first 
to  come  up  with  the  pig,  and  so  to 
gain  the  honours  of  the  run  ;  and, 
while  keeping  one  eye  on  the  object 
in  view,  he  has  to  keep  the  other  on 
131 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
the  doings  of  his  rivals,  so  far  as  the 
elation  of  a  glorious  gallop  will  allow 
him. 

When  the  "first  spear"  has  been 
won,  the  dodging  and  turning  and 
quick  rallies  required  for  fighting  the 
boar  have  no  little  resemblance  to 
the  galloping  melee  of  the  polo-field, 
till,  with  your  worser  passions  roused 
as  the  grizzled  old  tusker  pits  himself 
against  you,  you  meet  charge  with 
charge,  and,  blind  to  all  else  but  the 
strong  and  angered  foe  before  you, 
with  your  good  spear  in  your  hand, 
you  rush  for  blood  with  all  the  ecstasy 
of  a  fight  to  the  death.  And  then  : 

All's  blood,  and  dust,  and  grunted  curses. 

Well — this  is  a  different  thing  from 

the    pleasurable    enjoyment    to    be 

132 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
derived  from  a  gallop  with  hounds 
in  a  peaceful  English  county.  Yet 
in  the  Indian  sport — for  all  its  ex- 
citement— you  do  not  get  the  home 
surroundings,  the  stretching  gallop 
over  fences  and  grass,  the  keen  air, 
the  neighbourly  pageant,  and  all  the 
halo  of  Old  Englishness  that  go  to 
make  fox-hunting  the  lovable  sport 
it  is.  Indeed  it  is  only  after  testing 
other  sports  that  you  really  appreciate 
to  the  full  the  beauty  of  this  more 
homely  one. 

I  suppose  that  in  all  the  notable 
events  of  a  man's  life  he  remembers 
his  first  better  than  any  subsequent 
experience.  On  me  personally  my 
first  hog-hunting  day  is  very  indelibly 
impressed  :  not  that  it  was  a  specially 
eventful  day  as  hog-hunting  days  go, 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
but  the  novelty  of  the  sport  appealed 
to  me  very  forcibly,  and  the  picture 
remains.  I  see  now  the  sunny  yellow 
grass  jungle,  and  the  brown,  strong- 
shadowed  coolies  beating  through  it 
with  their  discordant  jangle  of  cries 
and  drums.  Suddenly  a  "  sounder  " 
of  smallish  pig  tumble  out  and  file 
away  across  the  open.  My  first  view 
of  wild  pig,  and  a  most  disappointing 
one!  Was  this,  then,  the  "mighty 
boar  "  they  talked  of  so  much  ?  But 
a  moment  later  a  form,  that  at  first 
looked  like  that  of  a  donkey,  caught 
my  eye  as  he  stood  surveying  the 
country  from  the  edge  of  the  jungle. 
This  was  a  boar.  He  was  watching 
one  of  our  keenest  beginners  rest- 
lessly hovering  about  in  a  way  that 
would  have  successfully  headed  back 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
any  timid-minded  animal;  but  this 
boar  was  an  old  warrior  ;  with  an 
inquisitive  look  he  stepped  into  the 
open  and  trotted  towards  our  trio  ;  a 
moment  later  he  started  into  a  louping 
gallop  with  ears  pricked  forward  and 
head  low,  and  before  our  friend  could 
manage  to  turn  his  spear  in  the 
enemy's  direction  the  pig  had  dashed 
in,  cut  his  horse's  legs  from  under 
him,  and  had  sent  steed  and  rider 
rolling  in  the  dust.  Then  he  turned 
with  a  knowing  shake  of  his  head, 
and  trotted  gaily  back  to  the  cover, 
whence  all  further  persuasion  failed 
to  move  him. 

Later  on  a  party  of  us,  all  griffins, 
got  away  after  a  full-sized  pig  ;  in 
turn  we  managed  to  get  up  to  him 
and  to  plant  our  spears  in  his  body 

135  G 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
and  back ;  but  we  planted  and  left 
them  there  as  beginners  are  prone  to 
do,  so  that  in  a  few  minutes  our  pig 
somewhat  resembled  the  fretful  por- 
cupine or  a  giant  pincushion,  while 
we  could  only  ride  near  him  empty- 
handed.    Whenever  he  faced  us  we 
fled,  not  exactly  from  fear,  but  from 
a  desire  to  save  our  teeth  and  noses 
from    the    leaded    spear-butts    that 
nodded    and    swayed     above    him. 
Finally,  getting  tired  of  the  sport,  he 
dropped  a  spear,  which  enabled  us 
to  give  him  his  coup  de  grace.     And 
then,  to  our  horror,  we  discovered 
that  he  was  not  a  "  he,"  but  a  "  she," 
after  all  !     And  so  heinous  a  crime 
is  the  killing  of  a  sow  that  we  swore 
to     keep     our    misadventure    dark, 
although  we    had   every  excuse  for 
136 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
our  mistake,  since  she  looked  all  over 
like  a  boar  and,  as  is  often  the  case 
with  barren  sows,  carried  tushes. 
The  crime  happened  many  years  ago, 
but  the  shame  of  it  has  hung  over 
my  life  ever  since,  and  now  in  con- 
fessing to  it  openly  for  the  first  time 
I  feel  a  heavy  cloud  is  lifted  from  my 
conscience. 

Among  the  several  spears  hanging 
in  honourable  retirement  on  my  wall 
there  is  one  whose  shaft  is  split  for 
some  three  out  of  its  six  feet  of 
length.  And  by  that  split  there 
hangs  a  tale. 

Two  of  us  were  out  in  camp 
together,  more  for  shooting  than  for 
pig-sticking  ;  still  we  had  our  horses 
and  spears  with  us.  Our  tents  were 
pitched  in  a  delightful  spot  on  the 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
high-wooded  bank  of  the  Jumna. 
Close  to  us  lay  our  hunting-ground, 
rough  grass  country  with  occasional 
strips  of  thick  jungle  and  frequent 
"  nullahs  "  or  dry  watercourses.  A 
preliminary  glance  at  the  ground 
overnight  revealed  signs  of  pig — in 
acres  of  upturned  earth— so  abun- 
dantly that  we  were  forced  to  forego 
our  shooting  for  the  first  day  in 
favour  of  trying  for  a  boar  instead. 

%Thus  the  early  dawn  found  Nay  lor 
and  myself  posted  at  the  point  of  one 
of  the  covers,  while  the  coolies  began 
to  beat  it  from  the  farther  end.  Wait- 
ing in  a  state  of  keen  expectancy,  we 
could  hear  their  shouts  drawing 
slowly  nearer  and  nearer,  and  our 
horses'  hearts  were  beating  quick 
and  tremulous  between  our  knees. 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
Suddenly  both  horses  fling  round 
their  heads  with  ears  pricked  ;  they 
are  trembling  in  every  limb  with 
excitement.  There  he  stands — not 
thirty  yards  from  us — a  grand  grey 
boar  with  yellow  curling  tushes,  and 
his  cunning  savage  little  eye  glisten- 
ing in  the  broad  morning  sunlight. 
He  is  listening  to  the  distant  sounds 
of  the  beaters,  and  does  not  see  us. 
We — scarce  daring  to  breathe — sit 
motionless  as  statues,  with  all  our 
eyes,  all  our  senses  fixed  on  him. 
He  moves  a  few  paces  forward,  and 
pauses  again  to  listen.  Will  he 
never  go  ? 

At  last  an  extra  loud  chorus  from 
the  approaching  line  decides  him  ; 
he  swings  round,  trots  for  a  few 
paces,  and  then  breaks  into  a  rough 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
tumbling    canter    away    across    the 
open. 

Now  we  cautiously  gather  up  our 
reins,  slide  our  feet  home,  and  pre- 
pare to  follow  so  soon  as  he  has  got 
sufficiently  far  from  the  cover  as  not 
to  be  tempted  to  double  back  on 
finding  himself  hunted.  It  is  a  case 
of  Mr.  Jorrocks  counting  twenty-one 
very  much  drawn  out,  till  Naylor  at 
length  gives  the  word  to  go,  and  we 
bound  away  together  after  the  great 
louping  form  now  distant  a  good 
quarter  of  a  mile  away  over  the 
yellow  grass.  Our  horses  are  mad 
keen  for  the  fray,  and  as  one  tears 
through  the  fresh  cool  air  all  bodily 
wreight  seems  to  leave  one's  extre- 
mities and  to  be  concentrated  into  a 
great  heartful  of  elation.  One  realises 
140 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
then  how  good  it  is  to  be  alive.  On 
we  go  with  little  to  check  our  pace 
but  an  occasional  grip  to  fly  ;  pre- 
sently, however,  my  horse  begins  to 
show  that,  whatever  my  own  impres- 
sions may  be,  he,  at  any  rate,  does 
not  realise  any  material  change  in  my 
actual  avoirdupois,  and  I  gradually 
find  myself  dropping  behind  Naylor 
in  the  race.  Nearer  and  nearer  we 
draw  to  the  pig,  and  at  last  Naylor 
turns  his  spear  (we  are  riding  with 
the  short  or  over-hand  jobbing 
spear)  ready  to  take  the  first  blood. 

But  there's  many  a  slip.  The  old 
pig  is  still  cantering  along  in  his  de- 
liberate yet  far-reaching  stride,  look- 
ing to  a  novice  as  though  he  had  not 
seen  us  ;  but  he  knows,  his  ears  are 
laid  back,  and  one  eye  or  the  other 
141 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
is  continuously  glancing  behind  him 
to  watch  our  moves. 

At  last  Naylor's  chance  comes. 
Closer  and  closer  he  edges  to  the 
boar ;  an  extra  spurt,  and  he  is 
nearly  on  to  him.  The  boar  gives  a 
half-turn  to  the  right,  and  quick  as 
thought  Naylor's  horse  has  turned 
with  him— but  the  boar's  half-turn  is 
but  for  one  stride ;  in  the  next  he 
whips  round  at  a  right  angle  to  his 
former  course,  and  Naylor's  spear- 
head dives  bloodless  into  the  sand  a 
yard  behind  him.  Riding  twenty 
yards  behind  Naylor  I  am  able  to 
turn  my  horse  more  rapidly  on  to 
the  new  direction,  and  I  gain  a  good 
start  by  cutting  the  corner  to  head 
my  quarry.  As  I  approach  his  in- 
tended line  the  boar  cocks  his  ears, 
142 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
alters  his  course  a  point  towards  me, 
and,  as  though  projected  by  some 
hidden  spring,  is  suddenly  close 
under  my  horse's  girths.  My  spear- 
point  is  just  down  in  time  ;  by  good 
luck  rather  than  good  management 
it  plunges  in  between  his  shoulder- 
blades,  and  I  crash  it  down  with  all 
my  force,  while  my  horse  cleverly 
jumps  the  snorting  monster.  But 
the  spear  is  jammed  in  the  boar,  and 
as  he  rushes  beneath  me  he  tears  it 
from  my  hand,  and  staggers  onward 
with  the  shaft  standing  on  him.  Nor 
does  he  go  far,  for  his  blood  is  up, 
and  when  Naylor  hastens  gaily  after 
him,  intent  to  kill,  the  enraged  old 
brute  turns  staunchly  to  him  and, 
with  every  bristle  pricked  and  tushes 
chapping,  makes  towards  his  enemy. 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
But  Naylor's  horse,  with  staring  eyes 
and  frightened  snort,  whips  sharply 
round,  and  will  not  face  this  fear- 
some  foe.  For  a  moment  the  pig 
marks  the  man's  discomfiture,  and 
then  turns  to  profit  by  it.  At 
a  sturdy  trot  he  pursues  his  way 
towards  the  jungle  looming  large 
ahead.  Once  more,  and  yet  again, 
does  Naylor  try  a  fresh  attack, 
always  with  the  same  result.  Each 
defeat,  however,  has  brought  the 
boar  much  nearer  to  his  refuge,  so  as 
a  last  resource  I  take  over  Naylor's 
spear  and  press  with  all  the  speed  I 
can  command  to  overtake  the  pig. 
He  has  but  twenty  yards  to  go  when 
I  am  on  him.  He  flies  along,  nor 
deigns  to  turn.  Ah,  friend,  I  have 
thee  now,  upon  the  hip  !  I  close 
144 


s  '•  o 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
with  him,  and  jam  the  spear  down 
fiercely  on  his  burly  back  ;  the  spear- 
head slips  aside.  Again  I  try,  with 
like  result,  and  an  instant  later  the 
thorny  bushes  close  behind  him  and 
bar  my  farther  way. 

We  quickly  make  our  plans,  and, 
posting  ourselves  en  vedette  on  either 
side  of  the  cover  in  which  he  hides, 
we  watch  against  his  least  attempt  at 
escape. 

Presently  the  coolies  join  us,  and 
while  one  goes  back  to  the  camp  for 
a  fresh  spear  for  me,  we  get  the  blunt 
one  fined  upon  a  local  sharpening- 
stone.  A  grateful  interval  of  refresh- 
ment, and  then,  re-armed  and  rested, 
we  set  the  beaters  on  to  drive  him 
forth  once  more.  But  this  is  no  easy 
job.  He  cares  not  for  their  drums 
147 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
and  threats,  but  when  they  near  him 
charges  and  breaks  through  their 
line,  to  nestle  into  some  thick  bush 
behind  them.  They  turn  again  and 
treat  him  to  an  infernal  serenade. 
Suddenly  their  monotonous  yelling 
takes  another  tone  ;  there  is  a  con- 
fused babble  of  talking,  a  hush,  and 
then  a  succession  of  somewhat  more 
coherent  shouts,  from  which  we  can 
gather  that  "  old  Buldoo  is  killed  by 
the  boar."  The  beating  ceases,  and 
the  coolies  come  huddling  out  of  the 
bushes  carrying  one  of  their  number 
between  them.  Of  course  he  is  not 
killed,  nor  anything  like  it ;  but  his 
friends  hope  that  he  is,  seeing  in  his 
decease  a  possible  division  among 
them  of  eighty  rupees  consolation 
money  from  us  sahibs.  Poor  Buldoo 
148 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
has,  however,  a  horrid  circular  gash 
inside  the  thigh,  which  has  lifted  a 
Hap  of  flesh  from  a  sufficient  depth 
lo  show  the  bone.  Such  a  wound  on 
a  white  man  would  make  a  ghastly 
show,  but  not  so  on  the  darker 
Hindu  skin,  nor  indeed  is  there 
much  flow  of  blood.  Such  as  there 
is  we  soon  stop,  and,  using  the 
needles  and  silk,  carbolic,  and  com- 
press from  the  handy  little  St.  John's 
Ambulance  wallet  in  our  belt,  we 
soon  have  him  well  patched  up  and 
homeward  bound,  comfortably  in- 
stalled upon  a  native  bedstead  from 
a  neighbouring  melon  -  gardener's 
hut. 

Then  for  the  first  time  my  shikari 
steps  forward,  grinning,  and  holding 
in  his  hand  the  spear  1  had  lost  in 
149 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
the  pig.  The  boar,  in  charging 
Buldoo,  had  brushed  close  past 
himself,  so  that  he  was  able  to  grip 
the  spear  with  both  hands  and  to 
wrench  it  out.  But  the  shaft  was 
split  beyond  repair.  Once  more  the 
coolies  form  to  beat  the  cover,  and, 
whether  it  is  some  innate  pluck  or  a 
stoical  submission  to  fate  that  guides 
them,  one  cannot  but  admire  the 
way  in  which  they  proceed,  unarmed 
and  on  foot,  to  tackle  a  brute  who 
has  ten  to  one  the  best  of  them  in 
the  jungle.  Nay  lor,  too,  dismounts, 
and  is  going  in  with  them,  spear  in 
hand,  leaving  me  to  ride  the  boar 
should  he  break  ;  but  at  this  moment 
excited  shouting  from  a  shepherd  on 
a  neighbouring  knoll  informs  us  that 
our  wily  quarry  has  taken  advantage 
150 


HE   WAS   ABLE  TO  GRIP  THE   SPEAR 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
of  our  preoccupation  and  has  quietly 
slipped  away.  In  a  few  seconds  we 
are  on  the  knoll,  and  thence  we  see 
our  friend  lobbing  away  across  the 
plain  (as  Mr.  Cruickshank  used  so 
expressively  to  describe  it),  "like  a 
carpet-bag  tumbling  along  end  over 
end."  For  a  second  time  we  have  a 
glorious  but  an  all  too  short  burst  in 
the  open,  and  again  Naylor  forges 
well  ahead  of  me.  However,  the 
pig  is  in  no  humour  to  give  us  a 
gallop  ;  when  he  finds  that  we  are 
overtaking  him,  he  stiffens  his  stride, 
and,  dodging  in  his  course  for  a 
moment  or  two,  he  suddenly  turns 
and  comes  at  Naylor  "like  a  thousand 
of  bricks,"  "  with  murder  in  his  eye." 
But  he  has  not  reckoned  on  the 
sharpened  spear,  and  as  he  bounds 
153 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
for  the  horse  with  his  head  on  one 
side  to  deliver  the  gash  of  his  razor- 
sharp  tusk,  the  spear-point  catches 
him  fair  in  the  shoulder  and  rolls 
him  over  in  the  dust.  He  is  on  his 
legs  again  immediately,  and,  furious 
with  rage,  turns  and  comes  at  once 
for  me.  He  is  a  grand  specimen 
of  sturdy  savage  pluck  as  he  bristles 
up  large  towards  me  ;  but  he  gives 
one  little  time  for  admiration  as  he 
plunges  headlong  at  the  horse.  A 
good  point  into  his  back  scarcely 
stops  the  impetus  of  his  rush,  and  a 
quick  upward  twist  of  his  head,  as  if 
merely  to  look  at  me,  results  in  an 
ugly  slit  in  my  horse's  shoulder. 
But  the  boar  himself  is  now  sorely 
stricken.  Close  to  him  is  one  of 
those  curses  of  the  Indian  hunting 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
countries,  a  deep  "nullah"  or  dry 
watercourse  some  twenty  feet  wide 
and  ten  feet  deep,  with  steep  sides. 
Into  this  he  plunges,  and  when  we 
reach  the  edge  we  see  him  creeping 
into  the  cover  of  a  big  thorn-bush  in 
the  bottom.  We  note  that  imme- 
diately above  the  bush  the  sides 
have  toppled  in  and  have  completely 
blocked  the  ravine.  So,  moving  a 
few  yards  down  the  bank,  we  dis- 
mount, leave  our  horses, and  scramble 
down,  spear  in  hand,  into  the  bottom 
of  the  nullah.  Then  we  advance 
shoulder  to  shoulder  towards  the 
bush,  and  from  a  distance  of  ten 
yards  or  so  we  hurl  two  or  three 
clods  into  it.  Presently  there  is  a 
rustle,  and  our  friend  quietly  sneaks 
out  on  the  far  side,  trotting  lamely 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
up  the  nullah  till  he  finds  his  road 
barred  by  the  fallen  walls.  Then  he 
turns  and  faces  us,  his  little  eyes 
sparkling  red  with  rage,  blood  well- 
ing and  glistening  down  his  shoulder, 
his  broad  nose  dry  and  dusty,  and 
blood  and  slime  dropping  from 
his  panting  jaws.  His  picture  is 
photographed  on  my  mind,  but  the 
photograph  is  an  instantaneous  one ; 
for  in  a  moment  more  his  ears  are 
pricked,  his  mane  is  on  end,  and 
he  comes  towards  us  at  a  sham- 
bling trot ;  at  five  yards  distance 
he  changes  to  a  gallop,  and  rushes 
blindly  at  us.  Our  spears  are  low, 
there  is  a  shock,  we  are  both  hurled 
back  against  the  side  of  the  ravine. 
Then  in  the  cloud  of  dust  we  see 
the  boar  on  his  knees  at  our  feet, 
156 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
both  spears  planted  in  his  chest  and 
shoulder.  He  essays  to  rise,  but  falls 
back  upon  his  side,  and  one  more 
spear-thrust  into  his  heart  finishes 
off  as  game  a  boar  as  ever  ran. 

Well !  this  is  not  fox-hunting,  but 
it  is  something  that  is  very  good. 

In  regimental  orders  one  evening 
there  appeared  the  notice  that  the 
regiment  was  to  parade,  mounted, 
next  morning  at  daybreak,  carrying 
full  water-bottles  and  ten  rounds  of 
blank  ammunition  per  man  ;  rations 
to  go  out  by  cart ;  and,  last  but  not 
least,  "  officers  and  troop  sergeant- 
majors  may  carry  hog-spears  in  place 
of  swords."  A  most  unique  and 
eventful  field-day  resulted. 

The  jungle,  a  large  tract  of  heavy 
grass  and  jhow  (tamarisk)  bush,  was 


THE   SPORT   OF   RAJAHS 
attacked  with  all  military  precaution 
and  completeness. 

The  regiment  proceeded  through 
it  in  line  at  half-open  files ;  patrols 
of  four  officers  each  were  posted  or 
moved  well  in  advance  of  the  line, 
so  that  when  a  boar  was  scared  by 
the  noise  of  the  approaching  line, 
then  one  of  these  patrols  nearest  to 
him  would  ride  after  him  and  en- 
deavour to  bring  him  to  account. 

So  successful  was  the  operation 
that  in  a  short  time  each  of  the 
parties  was  away  after  its  separate 
boar.  Still  pigs  were  seen  to  be 
running  away  ahead  of  the  line  with 
no  one  to  hunt  them,  till  the  colonel, 
who  had  hitherto  been  directing  the 
operations  generally,  gave  the  order 
for  certain  non-commissioned  officers 
158 


TOMMY   ATKINS  PIG-STICKING 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
to  take  patrols  of  men  with  them  and 
see  what  they  could  do  with  their 
swords  against  the  pigs.  In  a  short 
time  several  of  such  parties  were  to 
be  seen  scouring  across  country  in 
full  pursuit  of  the  common  foe.  To 
say  that  they  enjoyed  it  would  in  no 
way  express  their  excitement  and 
delight. 

They  galloped  here,  they  galloped  there, 
They  fought,  they  swore,  they  sweated. 

In  a  word,  they  had  a  glorious  time, 
albeit  when  the  "Rally"  sounded 
the  bag — beyond  those  killed  by  the 
spear  parties — was  not  a  large  one. 
Still,  when  all  was  over,  the  horses 
groomed  and  fed,  and  the  men  at 
their  dinners  and  free  to  talk,  the 
babel  in  the  bivouac  was  almost 
ludicrous,  since  every  man  at  once 
161 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
was  keen  to  tell  his  tale  of  personal 
adventure  with  the  Indian  pig. 
Here  one  was  stating  how  his  troop- 
mare,  C  1 6,  had  turned  her  tail  upon 
the  advancing  foe,  and  with  her  iron- 
shod  heels  had  sent  his  front  teeth 
rattling  down  his  throat.  And  there 
another,  a  budding  Munchausen,  was 
relating  how  he  stood  the  attack  of 
"not  only  one,  but  four  bloomin' 
swine,  all  of  a  go,"  and  how  all 
single-handed  and  alone  he  had 
beaten  them  off.  It  was  a  day  that 
was  talked  of  for  months  afterwards 
in  the  regiment ;  and  though  this 
one  experience  can  have  done  no 
more  than  give  the  men  a  momentary 
taste  of  the  ecstasy  of  a  fighting 
gallop,  pig-sticking  is  nevertheless 
par  excellence  a  soldier's  sport ;  •  it 
162 


THE  SPORT  OF  RAJAHS 
tests,  develops,  and  sustains  his  best 
service  qualities,  and  stands  without 
rival  as  a  training-school  for  officers  ; 
nor  is  it  ever  likely  to  languish  for 
want  of  votaries  so  long  as  boars  and 
Britons  continue  to  exist. 


HADJ   ANO 


HE   sun   had    set   and 
darkness  was   coming 
on  apace  by  the  time 
we    sighted    the   wel- 
come lights  of  Brown's  farm. 

It  was  the  second  evening  after 
landing  in  Tunisia,  and  the  previous 
two  days  had  been  spent  in  journey- 
ing hither  from  Bizerta,  through  de- 
lays incident  to  mud,  swollen  rivers, 
poor  mounts,  and  erratic  guides. 

"  We  "  consisted  of  my  interpreter- 
servant  and  myself.     He  was  a  Mal- 
167 


HAD]   ANO 

tese  whom  I  had  taken  on  at  Bizerta 
on  the  recommendation  that  he 
knew  Arabic  and  had  been  a  fireman 
on  board  an  English  steamer.  He 
only  joined  me  just  as  I  was  starting 
on  the  march  with  my  two  ponies. 
I  presently  found  that  his  Arabic 
was  merely  the  Maltese  dialect  of  it, 
and  his  English  was  limited  entirely 
to  such  words  as  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  hear  in  his  capacity  as 
stoker  ;  he  had  a  very  fairly  com- 
plete vocabulary  of  oaths,  and  a  few 
such  phrases  as  "  Stoke  up,"  "  Bank 
the  fires,"  "  Go  ahead,"  "  Stop  her," 
and  so  on.  It  is  true  he  had  one 
extraneous  English  sentence,  "She 
walks  in  the  street,"  but  this  he  used 
more  as  a  form  of  salutation  than 
anything  else. 

168 


HADJ   ANO 

"  Stoke  up "  came  to  mean,  with 
us,  "  Pack  up  and  march  "  ;  "  Bank 
the  fires"  implied  we  might  halt  and 
encamp ;  and  with  this  limited  lan- 
guage, eked  out  with  signs,  we  got 
along  very  well — all  things  con- 
sidered. At  any  rate,  we  succeeded 
in  arriving  at  the  right  place — wet 
and  tired,  it  is  true,  but  satisfied  in 
the  result. 

On  reaching  the  farm  I  found  a 
note  from  Brown  bidding  me  wel- 
come, and  explaining  that  in  his 
enforced  absence  in  Tunis  two 
French  officers,  who  were  also 
guests  of  his,  would  be  glad  to  help 
me  in  the  matter  of  sport.  The 
officers,  in  fact,  received  me  at  the 
door,  and  did  the  honours  of  the 
house  with  the  greatest  goodwill ; 
169 


HADJ   ANO 

but  I  missed  from  the  scene  the 
familiar  form  of  Hadj  Ano,  whom  I 
had  known  there  on  previous  visits. 
He  was  an  educated,  high-caste 
Arab,  who  acted  as  farm  bailiff  to 
Brown.  He  was  an  Algerian  Arab, 
and  therefore  a  sportsman  and  a 
gentleman,  and  very  far  superior  to 
the  more  servile  local  Tunisian 
natives. 

The  following  morning,  soon  after 
dawn,  saw  us  on  our  way  to  the 
snipe  ground  which  lay  at  the  foot 
of  Jebel  Ishkel.  This  was  a  moun- 
tain whose  purple  crags  rose  high 
above  the  plain,  very  much  like 
Gibraltar  in  appearance. 

What  curiosities  to  me  my  French 
companions  were  !  And  I,  no  doubt, 
was  equally  an  object  of  interest  to 
170 


HADJ    AND 

them.  Their  get-up  for  snipe-shoot- 
ing was  their  uniform  kepi  and 
jacket,  with  baggy  linen  overalls,  and 
capacious  game-bags  and  guns  slung 
on  their  backs,  and  they  rode  their 
corky,  half-bred  stallions  in  regi- 
mental saddles. 

The  open  yellow  grass  plains  and 
the  distant  rounded  mountains,  in 
the  crisp,  clear  atmosphere  of  the 
early  morning,  brought  out  a  strong 
resemblance  between  this  northern- 
most part  of  Africa  and  its  southern 
extremity.  As  I  jogged  along  with 
my  two  foreign  companions,  I 
seemed  to  be  once  more  with  my 
old  Boer  friends  starting  out  on 
shooting  horses  for  the  veldt.  But 
instead  of  the  silent  whiffing  of  Boer 
tobacco  there  came  from  my  com- 


HAD]   ANO 

panions  an  incessant  jabber,  and  a 
string  of  questions  as  to  whether,  in 
passing  through  Paris  and  Marseilles, 
I  had  seen  this  or  that  singer  or 
danseuse,  and  what  were  the  latest 
stories  now  being  told. 

This  seemed  to  be  the  only 
interest,  not  only  of  this  pair,  but 
of  half  the  officers  one  met  in  the 
colony.  My  present  friends  were  a 
captain  and  his  subaltern,  both  of 
them  far  older  than  would  be  the 
case  in  the  similar  grades  in  our 
army,  and  the  captain  was  pretty 
well  furnished  with  adipose  tissue. 
Probably  both  of  them  had  risen 
from  the  ranks  ;  at  any  rate,  their 
intellectual  training  was  not  of  a 
very  high  order,  and  their  ability  as 
horsemen  was  on  a  par  with  it. 
172 


THE   CAPTAIN,    WHO    WAS    LEADING,    PUSHED   IN   FIRST 


HAD]   ANO 

Presently  we  reached  a  river 
which  had  to  be  crossed  before  we 
came  on  our  ground  ;  it  was  about 
fifty  yards  wide,  and  just  fordable  by 
a  man  on  horseback.  The  captain, 
who  was  leading,  pushed  in  first, 
while  Pierre,  the  subaltern,  jibbed 
on  the  bank.  As  the  captain's  horse 
began  to  clamber  up  the  far  bank  he 
placed  his  back  at  such  an  incon- 
siderate angle  as  to  permit  of  the 
rider  slipping  off  over  his  tail  into 
the  muddy  stream.  Having  thus  de- 
posited his  burden,  the  horse  turned 
round  and  recrossed  to  rejoin  us. 
As  he  ranged  up  near  me  I  caught 
him  and  led  him  over  again.  Mean- 
time Pierre  was  still  niggling  vainly 
at  his  mount,  which  steadily  de- 
clined to  brave  the  water,  and  even- 
ts i 


HADJ   ANO 

tually  I  had  to  go  back  and  fetch 
him  along. 

At  last  we  arrived  near  the  snipe 
ground,  and,  when  we  had  off- 
saddled  and  tied  up  our  horses,  we 
started  to  walk  the  bog  in  line.  We 
had  hardly  taken  our  places  before 
the  birds  began  jumping  up  in  front 
of  us,  and  the  promise  of  sport 
raised  our  spirits  to  the  highest ; 
still,  the  birds  were  wild,  and  at  first 
my  shots  were  few  and  far  between. 
Not  so  those  of  the  Frenchmen,  who 
fired  on  sight  at  every  bird,  distance 
being  no  object.  But  suddenly  our 
sport  was  interrupted :  a  fiendish 
noise  of  neighing,  screams,  and 
snorting  rose  from  the  group  of 
bushes  where  we  had  left  our  horses. 
The  captain,  who  was  nearest  to  that 
176 


HADJ    AND 

point,  climbed  on  to  the  intervening 
bank,  and,  giving  a  mighty  yell, 
dashed  forward  in  the  direction  of 
the  noise,  quickly  followed  by  Pierre 
and  myself.  And  then  we  found  that 
Pierre's  horse  had  slipped  his  head- 
collar  and  the  captain's  had  broken 
away  from  the  twig  to  which  he  had 
been  tied,  and  the  pair  of  them  were 
now  having  a  good  set-to — hoof  and 
tooth — as  hard  as  they  could  go.  It 
was  a  great  fight,  and  was  all  the 
more  amusing  to  watch,  as  the  two 
owners  kept  skipping  round,  at  a 
very  safe  distance,  hurling  stones 
and  abuse  with  equal  futility  at  their 
pugilistic  quads. 

At  length,  by  using  huge  branches, 
we  succeeded  in  separating  and  se- 
curing the  combatants ;  and  although 
177 


HAD]   ANO 

they  were  covered  with  scratches, 
bites,  and  contusions — happily  none 
of  them  were  very  serious — having 
tied  them  properly  and  out  of  sight 
of  one  another,  we  once  more  re- 
sumed our  shoot.  But  it  was  in 
reality  a  hopeless  game,  for  as  we 
walked  on  we  had  to  wait  continually 
for  one  or  other  of  the  Frenchmen. 
The  fat  one  was  a  slow  mover,  and 
the  other  was  desperately  afraid  of 
getting  bogged ;  both  talked  inces- 
santly at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and 
fired  whenever  they  could  find  an 
excuse;  consequently  the  snipe,  of 
which  there  appeared  to  be  any 
number,  kept  jumping  up  at  eighty 
yards  in  front  of  us  in  a  most  dis- 
gusting manner.  However,  I  noticed 
with  great  satisfaction  that  they  did 
178 


IT   WAS   A   GREAT   FIGHT 


HAD]   ANO 

not  go  far ;  the  majority  of  them 
pitched  again  in  the  end  of  the  long 
narrow  bog  we  were  walking. 

Presently  Pierre,  through  exces- 
sive caution,  got  bogged ;  finding  the 
ground  on  which  he  was  standing 
quaky  and  yielding,  he  had  stood 
still,  fearing  to  move  in  any  direction 
instead  of  stepping  off ;  and  when  he 
felt  himself  sinking  his  first  act  was 
to  jam  his  gun-muzzle  downwards 
into  the  mud,  and  his  second  to  issue 
a  succession  of  piercing  yells  which 
speedily  brought  us  to  his  assistance. 
We  soon  lugged  him  and  his  gun 
from  the  slime — which,  after  all,  was 
not  by  any  means  a  dangerous  bog 
— and  deposited  him  on  the  bank  to 
recover.  Presently  he  reported  him- 
self fit  to  proceed,  but  he  elected  to 
181 


HAD;  ANO 

move  in  line  with  us,  remaining 
himself  on  terra  firma.  I  earnestly 
begged  silence  now,  as  we  were 
drawing  up  to  the  end  of  the  beat, 
and  for  a  short  distance  all  went  well 
save  for  the  noisy  floundering  of  the 
captain,  who  was  rapidly  getting 
rather  done  in  spite  of  our  slow  pace 
through  the  hummocky  reeds. 

Presently  a  great  common  heavy 
hawk  flapped  his  way  lazily  over — a 
shout  of  warning  from  Pierre,  and 
bang  !  bang  !  bang  !  bang  ! — four 
barrels  of  snipe-shot  at  fifty  yards' 
distance  had  the  effect  of  making 
him  smile  as  he  winked  the  other 
eye.  It  did  not  make  me  smile, 
especially  when  one  of  them,  noticing 
that  I  had  not  taken  part  in  the 
volley,  said,  in  a  tone  of  remon- 
182 


HAD]   AND 

strance,  "Surely  it  amuses  to  shoot 
the  large  bird  ?  "  But  I  had  my  eye 
the  while  on  the  smaller  bird,  Mr. 
Snipe,  and  I  could  see  him  slipping 
away  in  twos  and  threes,  and  soaring 
high  for  a  distant  flight. 

At  length,  step  by  step,  we  drew 
up  towards  the  end  of  the  beat — it 
would  soon  be  a  matter  for  standing 
still  to  let  the  birds  get  up  one  by 
one  :  slower  and  slower  we  went. 
Suddenly  Pierre  on  the  bank  began 
a  hurried  appeal  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  to  us  to  come  for  a  real  chance 
of  "gibier,"  and  he  started  running 
along  the  bank  past  the  end  of  the 
bog  ;  a  moment  later  and  the  captain 
was  pounding  and  splashing  after 
him  straight  through  the  middle  of 
the  cover.  Snipe  were  rising  like  a 
183 


HAD]   ANO 

cloud  of  flies  all  round  him  ;  the  air 
was  full  of  their  "  scape  "  of  alarm. 
For  a  moment  or  two  I  could  not 
find  words  adequate  to  the  occasion, 
and  then  I  took  myself,  figuratively 
speaking,  by  the  throat  and  held 
myself  down  till  I  was  calmer. 

And  what  are  these  two  idiots 
after  ?  I  looked  over  the  bank  to  see 
them  stalking  with  elaborate  pre- 
caution towards  a  bush  on  which 
were  perched  a  flock  of  starlings  !  I 
left  them  to  their  fun,  and  walked 
back  myself  through  the  bog,  and 
succeeded  in  getting  a  few  shots  at 
birds  we  had  walked  over,  and  found 
myself  with  three  couple  in  the  bag 
by  the  time  I  got  back  to  the  horses. 

Here  I  was  presently  joined  by  my 
friends,  who  had  succeeded  in  getting 
184 


HAD]   ANO 

a  brace  and  a  half  of  starlings,  half  a 
couple  of  snipe,  and  the  same  number 
of  greenfinches. 

Then  we  saddled  up  and  recrossed 
the  river,  this  time  without  accident. 
Then  when  I  proposed  trying  another 
little  bog  I  knew  of,  the  Frenchmen 
would  not  hear  of  it — for  one  thing 
they  were  evidently  quite  beat  with 
their  exercise  up  to  date,  and  for 
another  they  argued  that  dejeuner 
would  now  be  awaiting  us  at  the 
farm.  So  I  determined  to  try  the 
bog  by  myself,  in  reality  much 
relieved  at  their  determination. 

I  had  not  turned  from  them  many 
minutes  ere  I  noticed  a  small  Arab 
evidently  trying  to  overtake  me.  I 
waited  for  him,  expecting  he  might 
have  marked  down  some  game  near 
185 


HAD]   ANO 

by,  but  he  said  not  a  word  until  he 
had  come  sufficiently  close  to  touch 
my  stirrup.  Then,  in  a  low  voice, 
he  asked  in  Arabic  if  I  were  English  ; 
on  my  satisfying  him  on  that  score, 
he  merely  said,  in  a  lower  voice  than 
before,  "  Hadj  Ano,"  and  pointed  to 
a  distant  clump  of  trees.  I  guessed 
that  my  friend  must  be  there,  and  had 
sent  this  mysterious  little  messenger 
to  tell  me.  So,  accompanied  by  the 
boy,  I  rode  in  that  direction,  and 
as  we  approached  the  place  a  figure 
came  out  to  meet  us,  which  I  soon 
recognised  as  Hadj  Ano  himself. 
He  was  a  fine,  tall,  well-propor- 
tioned man  of  about  forty,  with 
the  typical  high-caste  Arab  features. 
Except  for  a  turban,  he  was  dressed 
in  European  shooting  clothes,  and 
186 


HAD]   ANO 

carried  in  his  hand  a  gun  belonging 
to  Brown.  He  cordially  greeted  me 
(he  spoke  French  like  a  Frenchman) 
and  led  the  way  to  the  grove.  Here 
I  found  a  delightful  little  camp  of 
two  Arab  tents,  one  of  which  was 
occupied  by  the  Hadji  himself,  the 
other  by  some  three  or  four  Arabs 
who  were  with  him. 

In  a  few  minutes  some  of  these 
men  had  taken  my  horse  and  were 
grooming  and  feeding  him,  while 
another  was  preparing  some  food  for 
me. 

After  some  mutual  inquiries  I 
asked  the  Hadji  how  he  came  to 
be  camped  out  here  instead  of  living 
in  the  farm  as  usual,  whereat  he 
laughed  and  said  that  he  did  not 
care  for  French  officers,  and  while 
187 


HADJ    ANO 

they  occupied  the  farmhouse  he 
preferred  to  camp  outside ;  and, 
knowing  the  dislike  the  Algerians 
have  for  their  French  masters,  I 
thought  no  more  of  the  matter. 
He  said  he  had  heard  of  my  arrival, 
and  had  sent  the  boy  to  bring 
me  to  him  if  I  should  be  working 
alone. 

We  had  an  excellent  dejeuner  of 
Arab  dishes,  in  which  "  khus-khus  " 
(a  kind  of  semolina  and  chicken 
curry)  figured  as  the  piece  de  resist- 
ance, and  after  a  short  rest  we 
started  out  for  a  bit  of  ground 
which  Hadj  Ano  recommended — 
open  stony  ground  with  patches  of 
tufty,  coarse  grass  and  clumps  of 
thorn  bushes,  through  which  there 
meandered  a  stream  which  every 
188 


HAD]   ANO 

now  and  then   opened  out  into  a 
green,  tussocky  bog. 

It  was  ground  that  might  and,  as 
we  very  soon  found  out,  did  contain 
many  varieties  of  game.  Shortly  after 
commencing  our  beat,  with  two  Arab 
boys  as  game-carriers,  we  put  up  a 
fine  little  covey  of  partridges  some 
distance  out  of  shot,  and  almost 
immediately  afterwards  the  Hadji 
knocked  over  a  hare  very  neatly. 
Then  there  fluttered  up  from  a  bush 
between  us  a  woodcock,  and  cross- 
ing me  gave  me  an  easy  shot  which 
brought  him  into  the  larder.  A  little 
farther  another  hare  fell  to  my  com- 
panion. Then  we  came  to  a  small 
hollow,  evidently  well  watered,  filled 
with  thorn  bush,  rank  yellow  grass, 
and  a  few  green  bushes  which  looked 
191 


HAD]   ANO 

like  holly.  Hadj  Ano  and  I  stationed 
ourselves  outside  this  cover  and  sent 
the  boys  in  to  act  as  spaniels.  Pre- 
sently, with  a  silent  whisk,  a  rich 
brown  woodcock  flitted  past  me, 
and  then  so  suddenly  changed  his 
course  as  to  escape  the  shower  of 
shot  with  which  I  saluted  him.  But 
no  less  than  three  more  birds  came 
out  of  the  same  spinny,  two  to  me 
and  one  to  the  Hadji,  and  these  were 
all  accounted  for.  As  we  went  on  a 
tempting  reach  of  reedy  swamp  re- 
ceived our  attention,  and  here  we 
had  some  very  pretty  snipe-shooting. 
Alert  they  were  as  in  the  morning, 
but  they  did  not  fly  far  on  the  first 
rise,  and  my  present  companions, 
keen  and  silent,  were  very  different 
from  the  noisy  Frenchmen.  As  a 
192 


HAD]  ANO 

consequence  we  soon  began  to  run 
up  quite  a  little  bag.  We  had  no 
dog,  but  slow  and  careful  walking 
got  the  birds  up  nicely,  and  the  Arab 
boys  were  as  sharp  as  needles  in 
marking  and  retrieving  fallen  game. 
Anon  we  came  to  a  long  and  narrow 
belt  of  thorn  bushes  lining  both  banks 
of  the  streamlet.  Hadj  Ano  took 
one  side  and  I  the  other,  the  boys 
working  along  in  the  bush,  tapping 
as  they  went.  Four  shots  at  intervals 
from  Hadj  Ano's  gun  began  to  make 
me  impatient  of  my  own  silence,  but 
at  last  along  bill  rose  within  the  thorns 
and  came  to  my  side,  and  gave  an 
easy  shot  as  he  turned  to  wing  along 
the  side  of  the  cover ;  almost  where 
he  fell  another  rose,  and  gave  a  long 
shot  for  my  left  barrel.  I  should 


HAD]   ANO 

probably  have  missed  him  had  it 
been  my  right,  but,  as  it  was,  he  too 
bit  the  dust. 

On  and  on  we  went,  getting  every 
now  and  then  a  shot  at  cock,  until 
at  length  the  sun  began  to  sink 
towards  his  setting,  and  we  had 
wandered  far  from  camp.  Then  we 
turned  and,  as  far  as  the  light  would 
allow  us,  shot  our  way  back  towards 
the  tents.  Out  of  a  reedy  pool  we 
got  a  mallard  and  his  mate,  and  a 
little  farther  on  a  woodcock,  probably 
a  wounded  one,  rose  from  bare 
ground  at  our  approach,  and  fell, 
after  a  twisty  flight,  to  my  second 
barrel.  Soon  after  the  sun  had  set  a 
whistle  of  golden  plover  sounded  sud- 
denly near,  and  as  they  rushed  over- 
head we  stopped  a  couple  and  a  half. 
194 


HAD]   ANO 

That  was  our  last  and  perhaps  most 
satisfactory  shot  of  what  had  been  in 
the  end  a  very  satisfactory  day. 

Darkness  had  set  in  before  we 
reached  the  trees  where  lay  our 
camp.  As  this  was  still  some  five 
miles  from  the  farm,  and  my  pony 
was  feeling  one  of  his  legs  after  the 
marching  from  Bizerta,  I  gave  way 
to  the  suggestion  of  Hadj  Ano,  and 
made  up  my  mind  to  spend  the  night 
in  camp. 

A  note  to  this  effect  was  despatched 
by  one  of  his  men  to  quiet  the 
anxiety  of  my  French  friends  at  the 
farm,  and  I  sat  down  with  a  clear 
conscience  and  an  appreciative  appe- 
tite to  the  repast  prepared  by  the 
Hadji's  cook-boy.  Hadj  Ano  had 
meanwhile  changed  his  shooting 


HAD]   ANO 

clothes   for   his    native    Arab   dress, 
which  he  always  wore  at  home. 

Then  followed  one  of  those  de- 
lights which  only  come  too  seldom 
into  one's  experience — to  lie  at  one's 
ease  in  the  cold,  clear  night  by  a 
warm  and  cheerful  camp  fire.  The 
restfulness  of  it  appeals  to  every 
joint  in  the  tired  sportsman's  frame, 
while  his  mind  is  amused  by  the 
quaint  tales  and  plaintive  songs  with 
which  the  Arabs  pass  away  an  hour 
or  two. 

Then,  warm  and  sleepy,  one  rolls 
into  one's  blanket  to  sleep  off  all 
fatigue  and  gather  fresh  energy  from 
the  pure  fresh  air  of  one's  bedroom 
under  the  stars. 

Often  during  the  night,  as  is  my 

wont,  I  awoke  to  glance  around,  and 

196 


HAD]    ANO 

every  time  I  did  so  I  saw  a  watch- 
ful figure  sitting  near,  or  standing 
looking  out  across  the  plain  be- 
yond the  trees.  It  was  only  later 
on  that  I  found  out  the  reason  for 
this  vigil. 

Early  in  the  morning  I  shot  my 
way  back  to  the  farm  alone,  for 
Hadj  Ano  laughingly  declined  to 
accompany  me  to  see  the  French- 
men. We  parted  with  a  cheery 
hand-wave,  meaning  soon  to  meet 
again  ;  but  we  have  never  met. 

A  few  months  after  this  I  chanced 
to  read  La  Depeche  Tunisienne,  and 
came  across  a  column  describing 
how  the  police  had  made  a  raid  on 
Brown's  farm  with  the  object  of 
capturing  "  the  renowned  convict 
Hadj  Ano."  My  friend,  it  appeared, 
197 


HAD]   ANO 

had  been  a  chief  of  high  standing  in 
Algeria,  where,  in  accordance  with  a 
tribal  custom,  he  had  worked  off  an 
old  family  blood-feud  with  a  neigh- 
bouring tribe,  and,  after  a  well- 
fought  single  combat,  had  slain  his 
man.  But  he  had  forgotten  that 
Algeria  was  now  a  civilised  country 
— a  part  of  France  in  fact — and  the 
result  was  that 

The  coroner  he  came,  and  the  justice  too, 
With  a  hue  and  a  cry  and  a  hullaballoo, 

and  poor  Had]  Ano  was  sent  across 
the  seas  to  expiate  his  crime  on  board 
the  hulks  in  New  Caledonia. 

By    some    means    he    ultimately 

effected  his  escape  and  returned  to 

his  people  ;  but,  finding  Algeria  too 

dangerous  to  live  in,  in  safety,  with 

198 


HADJ   ANO 


HADJ    ANO 

a  few  trusted  followers  he  moved 
across  the  mountains  into  Tunisia. 
Here  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Brown,  and  his  sportsmanlike  and 
gentlemanly  character,  combined 
with  his  intelligence  and  education, 
made  him  at  once  a  useful  bailiff  and 
a  pleasant  companion  on  the  farm. 
His  faithful  people  watched  over  and 
guarded  him,  and  the  country  Arabs 
for  miles  round  knew  his  story  and 
passed  him  warning  when  French 
officials  of  any  kind  were  moving  in 
the  direction  of  Brown's  farm.  At 
length  fate  went  against  him.  Some- 
how, whether  by  bribery  or  other 
means  I  have  never  heard,  the  police 
managed  to  keep  their  movements 
secret,  and  having  surrounded  the 
farm  during  the  night,  seized  poor 
aoi 


HADJ   ANO 

Hadj  Ano  at  the  dawn  of  day,  and 
took  him  back  to  prison. 

What  was  his  subsequent   fate   1 
have  never  heard. 


Printed  by  BALLANTYNE,  HANSON  &*  Co. 
London  &>  Edinburgh 


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